BX  9178  .K3  T5 
Kelman,  John,  1864 
Things  eternal 


1929. 


THINGS   ETERNAL 


v         BY 


REV.  JOHN  KELMAN,  D.D. 

AUTHOR  OF   "AMONG   FAMOUS   BOOKS/ ' 
"THE  EOAD  OF  LIFE,"  ETC. 


'  1920 


NEW  miJF   YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN   THE  UNITED  STATES   OF  AMERICA 


TO  MY  WIFE 


PREFACE 

An  old  author,  speaking  of  the  journey  of  life,  has  quaintly 
described  Sundays  as  the  inns  where  the  traveller  rests  for 
a  little  while  and  collects  his  thoughts,  both  of  the  road  he 
has  travelled  and  of  the  destination  whither  it  is  leading 
him.  Such  is  the  intention  of  these  studies.  They  are  not 
sermons,  but  fragments  or  abstracts  of  sermons.  They  are 
fugitive  glimpses  of  eternal  things. 

While  in  a  general  way  it  has  been  found  convenient  to 
arrange  them  in  the  time-honoured  sequence  of  the  Chris- 
tian year,  only  a  few  of  the  more  important  festivals,  cele- 
brated either  on  Sundays  or  on  adjacent  weekdays,  have 
been  selected.  I  have  included  the  discarded  festival  of 
All  Souls ;  for  although  it  has  been  abused  by  superstition, 
it  may  well  be  allowed  to  remind  us  of  our  human  brother- 
hood and  of  the  claim  of  God  upon  all  mankind.  The  first 
and  last  Sundays  of  the  year  are  the  only  commemorative 
days  which  have  been  added  to  "those  of  the  Church 
Calendar. 

Since  the  object  of  the  book  is  practical  rather  than 
critical,  questions  of  authorship  and  of  literal  or  figurative 
interpretation  have  been  rarely  introduced.  In  so  far  as 
disputed  doctrines  are  dealt  with,  my  desire  is  to  sound  a 
reconciling  rather  than  a  contentious  note.  Far  too  much 
has  been  made  of  our  differences  in  matters  where  all  theo- 
ries are  necessarily  incomplete.  The  statement  of  truths  of 
eternity  in  the  language  of  time  must  always  leave  o;reat 
room  for  Christian  charity  towards  those  who  state  the 
same  truths  otherwise,  and  the  restatement  of  ancient  doc- 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

trines  in  modern  terms  implies  no  lack  of  reverence  either 
for  former  thinkers  or  their  thoughts.  It  does  imply  a 
profound  and  deepening  conviction  that  the  earlier  and 
the  later  voices  are  but  different  expressions  of  the  same 
things.  The  chief  characteristic  of  the  thought  of  to-day 
is  that  it  finds  its  way  to  abstract  truth  through  actual 
experience.  In  the  history  of  the  race  and  of  the  individual 
there  is  clear  evidence  of  the  way  of  God  with  men.  It  is 
in  these  phenomena  of  time  that  we  see  passing  glimpses  of 
eternity. 

JOHN  KELMAN. 


CONTENTS 

Page 

On  the  Observance  of  Days 13 

"I  was  in  the  Spirit  on  the  Lord's  Day." — 
Eevelation  i.  10. 

Concerning   Gifts ~ 18 

"The  gifts  of  the  Magi."— St.  Matthew  ii.  11. 
The  Consecration  of  Imperialism „      23 

"He  leadeth  them  out."— St.  John  x.  3. 
Leadership,  False  and  True 28 

"He  leadeth  them  out."— St.  John  x.  3. 
The  Making  of  an  Apostle 33 

St.  Paul  the  Apostle. — Acts  ix.  1-9. 
Thought  and  Action m 38 

St.  Paul's  Retrospect. — Acts  xxvi.  19. 
Loyalty  to  Vision 42 

St.  Paul's  Retrospect. — Acts  xxvi.  19. 
Christ's  Lessons  in  Prayer 46 

"Lord,  teach  us  to  pray." — Luke  11.  1. 
Preparation  for  the  Best „ 50 

"A  people  prepared  for  the  Lord." — Luke  i.  17. 
The  Preparation  of  Words 55 

"Take  with  you  words." — Hosea  xiv.  2. 
The  Power  of  Words 59 

"Take  with  you  words." — Hosea  xiv.  2. 
East  and  West 63 

"As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west,  so  far 
hath  He  removed  our  transgressions  from 
us." — Psalm  ciii.  12. 

Christ  Among  the  Transgressors 69 

"He   was   numbered   with   the   transgres- 
sors."— Isaiah  liii.  12;  Luke  xxii.  37. 
ix 


x  CONTENTS 

Paga 

The  Value  of  a  Pageant .... - .. „..„      75 

The  triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem. — 
Luke  xix.  28-48. 

The  Kising  of  Christ _ — - 80 

"They  have  taken  away  my  Lord,  and  I 
know  not  where  they  have  laid  Him." — St. 
John  xx.  13. 

A  Song  of  the  Morning —      85 

"And  he  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  morn- 
ing, when  the  sun  riseth,  even  a  morning 
without  clouds." — 2  Samuel  xxiii.  4. 

The  More  Excellent  Way 90 

"That  ye  may  approve  things  that  are  ex- 
cellent."— Philippians  i.  10. 

Strength  and  Joy „ — 97 

"The  joy  of  the  Lord  is  your  strength." — 
Hehemiah  viii.  10. 

The  Elusweness  of  Desire ~ ....    102 

"The  mirage  shall  become  a  pool." — 
Isaiah  xxxv.  7. 

The  Phantasmagoria  of  Life _ —    107 

"The  mirage  shall  become  a  pool." — 
Isaiah  xxxv.  7. 

A  New  Polnt  of  View 112 

"While  they  beheld,  He  was  taken  up;  and 
a  cloud  received  Him  out  of  their  sight." — 
Acts  i.  9. 

The  Days  of  the  Spirit 117 

"It  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away." — 
St.  John  xvi.  7. 

The  Spiritual  Doctrine  of  God 122 

"For  there  are  three  that  bear  record  in 
heaven,  the  Father,  the  Word,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost;  and  these  three  are  one." — 1  John  v.  7. 

The  Spirit  and  the  Intellect 127 

"He  will  guide  you  into  all  truth." — St. 
John  xvi.  13. 

The  Spirit  and  the  Conscience -..    131 

"He  will  convict  the  world  of  sin,  and  of 
righteousness,  and  of  judgment." — St.  John 
xvi.  8-11. 


CONTENTS 


XI 


Page 
The  Unknown  Christ 135 

"There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye 
know  not."— St.  John  i.  26. 

The  Unknown  Neighbor „ 140 

"There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye 
know  not." — St.  John  i.  26.  * 

The  Unknown  Self m    145 

"There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye 
know  not."— St.  John  i.  26. 

Duty  and  Pleasure 15! 

"Are  not  Abana  and  Pharpar,  rivers  of 
Damascus,  better  than  all  the  waters  of 
Israel."— 2  Kings  v.  12. 

OpInion  and  Knowledge „ 157 

"Behold  I  thought  .  .  behold  now  I 
know."— 2  Kings  v.  11,  15. 

The  Character  of  Gehazl._ 163 

2  Kings  v.  15-27. 

God's  Compromise  with  Man...™™. 170 

"Two  mules,  burden  of  earth." — 2  Kings  v.  17. 
Man's  Compromise  with  God 175 

"The  house  of  Rimmon." — 2  Kings  v.  18. 

The  Open- Air  Treatment  of  Souls _ 182 

"I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills." — 
Psalm  cxxi.  1. 

Three  Views  of  Man's  Destiny — 1.  Pessimism 187 

"I  wept  much  because  no  man  was  found 
worthy  to  open  and  to  read  the  book." — 
Eevelation  v.  4. 

Three  Views  of  Man's  Destiny — 2.  The  Gospel  of 

Healthy-Mindedness  .. „    192 

"Weep  not;  behold,  the  Lion  of  the  tribe 
of  Juda  .  .  .  hath  prevailed  to  open  the 
book." — Revelation  v.  5. 

Three   Vraws    of   Man's   Destiny — 3.    Love    and 

Sacrifice  .. _ _„..„ 195 

"A  Lamb  as  it  had  been  slain." — Revela- 
tion v.  6. 

"Well-Meaning  Blunderers „ 202 

"Blessed  is  he  that  shall  eat  bread  in  the 
kingdom  of  God." — Luke  xiv.  15. 


xii  CONTENTS 

Page 

Interpretation  by  the  Long  Result 206 

"What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou 
shalt  know  hereafter." — St.  John  xiii.  7. 

Trust  in  the  Character  of  Christ™ 211 

"What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou 
shalt  know  hereafter." — St.  John  xiii.  7, 

The  Exploration  of  the  Hidden  Ldte_- 215 

"Your  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God,"— 
Colossians  iii.  3. 

Weariness  of  Responsibility..™ _.    222 

"Make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants." — 
Luke  xv.  10. 

The  Heritage  of  Fear 227 

"Thou  hast  given  me  the  heritage  of  those 

that  fear  Thy  name." — Psalm  lxi.  5. 
The  Claim  of  God 232 

"All  souls  are  mine." — Ezekiel  xviii.  5. 

The  Religion  of  Humanity 237 

"Jesus  went  forth,  and  saw  a  great  multi- 
tude, and  was  moved  with  compassion 
toward  them." — St.  Matthew  xiv.  14. 

The  Further  Side  of  Victory 241 

"More  than  conquerors." — Romans  viii.  37. 

The  Transformation  of  Language  into  Ld?e 245 

"The  word  was  made  flesh." — St.  John  i.  14. 

The  Reasonable  View  of  Sent  and  of  Forgiveness 250 

Isaiah  1.  18. 

The  Divine  Love  Incarnate 255 

"The  love  of  God  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus." 
— Romans  viii.  39. 

The  Second  Advent „ _ - 260 

"Like  unto  men  that  wait  for  their  lord." — 
Luke  xii.  36. 

The  Groups  Around  the  Cradle™ ~    265 

"The  eyes  of  all  wait  upon  Thee." — Psalm 
cxiv.  15. 

The  End  of  the  Tear .... 268 

"It  is  finished."— John  xix.  30. 


THINGS  ETERNAL 


THINGS  ETERNAL 

ON  THE  OBSERVANCE  OF  DAYS 

(The  New  Year) 
"I  was  in  the  Spirit  on  the  Lord's  Day." — Revelation  i.  10. 

The  wonderful  book  of  the  Kevelation  introduces  us  sud- 
denly to  a  most  picturesque  and  most  pathetic  situation. 
It  is  Sunday  in  Patmos,  where  John  is  an  exile  condemned 
to  work  in  the  mines.  Sunday  was  a  great  day  with  those 
early  Christians — the  Lord's  Day,  the  Christian  festival 
of  the  Resurrection.  For  that  brilliant  fact  shone  behind 
them  but  a  little  distance  off,  and  once  a  week  they  laid 
aside  all  other  thoughts,  and  lived  over  again  in  loving 
imagination  the  events  that  had  changed  the  world  for 
them. 

Sunday  was  not  a  holiday  in  the  mines,  but  the  spirit  of 
this  redeemed  man  is  free,  and  he  has  access  to  the  spiritual 
world.  While  his  feet  and  hands  toil  at  their  dreary  tasks, 
he  passes  into  an  ecstatic  state,  suspending  his  connexion 
with  this  material  world,  and  leading  him  into  the  other 
land,  unseen  of  any  eyes  but  his. 

In  this  exalted  state  the  boundaries  both  of  time  and 
space  are  thrown  down,  and  he  moves  free  in  a  larger 
world.  He  is  back  again  in  the  morning  light  of  the  day  of 
Christ's  rising.  Again  he  runs  to  the  empty  tomb  with 
Peter;  again  the  woman  whom  they  have  left  solitary  by 
that  empty  tomb  comes  and  tells  them  what  she  has  seen ; 
and  again  amid  the  evening  shadows  he  himself  hears  the 

(13) 


14  THINGS  ETERNAL 

words  ' '  Peace  be  unto  you. ' '  Similarly  he  escapes  from  the 
narrow  confines  of  the  island,  and  shares  the  life  of  the  in- 
fant Church  scattered  along  the  coast-lines  of  the  Great 
Sea.  He  is  their  brother  and  companion,  both  in  the  tribu- 
lation and  in  the  kingdom  of  Jesus  Christ ;  with  them  both 
in  darkness  and  in  glory.  He  is  with  them,  too,  in  that  pa- 
tience of  the  saints  which  both  the  tribulation  and  the 
kingdom  has  taught  them — that  wonderful  patience  of  the 
early  Church,  which  had  learned  to  be  patient  with  life, 
both  in  its  present  trial  and  its  deferred  hope. 

Such  was  the  spirit  of  the  day  for  John — partly  com- 
memoration of  the  past,  partly  fellowship  with  the  far 
distant,  in  the  brotherhood  of  the  patient  Church.  It  was 
a  day  of  mingled  sorrow  and  exultation,  in  every  sense  a 
very  special  day. 

We  still  keep  certain  days  apart,  and  break  the  monotony 
of  the  year  with  their  recurring  calls  to  remember  and  to 
love.  There  is  sometimes  heard  a  grudge  against  making 
much  of  one  day  above  another,  but  surely  that  is  but  a 
frowsy  way  of  thinking.  Those  who  cherish  it  must  be 
people  whose  commonplace  life  of  detail  has  overwhelmed 
them  and  made  them  dull,  till  they  feel  at  home  only  in 
routine,  and  are  restless  and  ill  at  ease  when  life  grows 
keener.  The  loss  of  the  power  to  take  holiday  is  one  of  the 
results  of  the  over-pressure  nowadays.  But  even  for  the 
work's  own  sake  we  need  sometimes  to  stand  off  from  work, 
especialty  in  our  religious  life.  The  finest  and  most  sensi- 
tive instincts  tend  to  die  away  or  to  get  crowded  out,  even 
amid  religious  services  and  duties.  Indeed  it  even  comes 
to  this,  that  we  positively  fear  any  special  inspirations. 
A  sloth  creeps  upon  us,  and  rather  than  risk  a  spiritual 
awakening  we  willingly  consent  to  weary  ourselves  with 
unremitting  labours,  or  succumb  to  the  fascination  of  the 
unimportant,  and  indulge  ourselves  in  a  succession  of 
casual  little  activities.    "We  deliberately  prefer  and  choose 


ON  THE  OBSERVANCE  OF  DAYS  15 

Martha's  part  instead  of  Mary's,  and  fill  life  so  full  of 
bustling  services  that  we  have  no  time  either  to  think  or 
to  aspire. 

There  are  others  who  in  a  different  spirit  ask:  "Why 
select  one  day  above  another!  Are  not  all  days  equally 
days  of  the  Lord?  Rather  let  us  raise  the  tone  of  every 
day  till  it  reaches  festival  height. ' '  This  looks  indeed  like 
religion,  but  it  is  not  human  nature.  Those  who  are  always 
at  high  pressure  grow  inevitably  strained  and  unnatural. 
It  is  quite  true  that  every  day  is  a  day  of  the  Lord,  for 
every  day  is  "full  of  things  offering  themselves  for  our 
wonder,  and  understanding,  and  love,  and  every  person 
we  meet  is  a  traveller  between  life  and  death."  So  all  the 
interests  of  life  are  religious ;  but  we  are  human,  and  none 
of  us  is  capable  of  bearing  more  than  a  certain  strain. 
Such  attempts  overstrain  life  to  a  tension  that  is  neither 
desirable  nor  wholesome. 

In  a  word,  the  spirit  is  tidal,  and  "the  soul  wins  its 
victories  as  the  sea  wins  hers."  The  occasional  and  fluc- 
tuating element  in  life  is  not  only  justifiable  but  essential 
to  healthy  human  nature.  The  tides  of  the  spirit  are 
known  to  us  all — the  great  reactions,  the  swinging  tides 
of  feeling,  interest,  and  energy.  These  are  from  above, 
coming  down  upon  us,  unlike  the  pedestrian  guides  of 
common  sense  and  principle  which  direct  us  evenly  on  our 
way.  This  does  not  apply  merely  to  the  ebb  and  flow  of 
sweet  or  tender  feeling,  though  it  includes  that  also. 
Rather  one  thinks  of  the  occasional  heightening  of  life  all 
round,  the  intensification  of  its  powers  in  moments  when» 
it  "means  intensely,  and  means  good." 

For  the  continuance  of  such  exalted  moods,  there  arc 
no  tabernacles  allowed  on  the  mountain-top.  Life  moves 
best  in  reactions,  and  the  occasional  element  is  necessary 
to  its  wholesomeness.  Very  particularly  does  this  hold 
true  of  religious  experience,  and  it  warns  us  against  a 
false  conscience  of  spirituality.    Self -analysis  and  frequent 


16  THINGS  ETERNAL 

measurement  of  the  spiritual  temperature  may  easily  be- 
come morbid.  Do  not  strain  your  spirit  nor  force  your 
moods,  nor  accuse  yourself  because  of  the  ebb  and  flow. 
All  that  is  included  in  the  command  and  trast  that  we 
shall  live  our  human  lives. 

Now  this  occasional  quality  of  human  nature  is  the  ex- 
planation of  the  common  delight  in  the  observance  of 
special  days.  Birthdays  and  other  anniversaries,  the  re- 
turn of  friends  from  afar,  the  festivals  commemorating 
national  and  religious  events,  are  all  of  them  times  of 
spiritual  rising  tide.  It  is  fitting  to  give  them  their  oppor- 
tunity, to  set  time  apart,  and  to  forbid  encroaching  duties. 

"We  have  here  a  principle  which  gives  its  true  meaning 
to  the  observance  of  Sunday.  Unfortunately  the  whole 
question  has  come  to  be  associated  either  with  laws  and 
forcible  restraints,  or  with  the  mere  idea  of  rest,  and 
the  cessation  of  the  daily  routine.  Both  of  these  are 
negative  conceptions  of  the  day,  relating  to  what  we  must 
not  do  on  it.  Really  such  restrictions  exist  not  for  their 
own  sake,  but  in  order  to  make  room  for  the  positive 
Sunday  life.  That  life  consists  of  much  that  is  keenest 
and  most  worthy  in  human  nature — the  fellowship  of 
friends,  thoughts  of  the  absent,  memories  of  the  dead,  as- 
pirations after  better  life,  communion  with  God.  For  the 
sake  of  these  things  of  the  Spirit  it  is  worth  while  to  resist 
the  encroachment  of  week-day  interests,  xind  the  resist- 
ance must  be  firm,  for  much  is  ever  waiting  to  be  completed, 
and  overlapping  fragments  of  workaday  life  will  make  it 
impossible  without  watchfulness  to  be  in  the  Spirit  on 
the  Lord's  Day. 

There  is  another  special  day,  hidden  from  us  all  in 
the  future,  when  one  would  wish  above  most  days  to  be 
in  the  Spirit — the  day  of  one's  death.  When  we  think 
of  all  that  death  involves  for  believing  men,  we  cannot  but 
class  it  amon.T  the  festivals  of  life.     Its  freedom  from  old 


ON  THE  OBSERVANCE  OF  DAYS  17 

bonds,  its  sudden  new  adventure,  its  chance  for  turning 
the  experience  of  life  to  use,  its  light  of  vision  and  the  be- 
ginning of  eternal  peace — surely  it  is  a  day  of  the  Lord, 
and  it  must  be  a  thing  to  be  desired  that  on  that  day  He 
will  grant  us  a  mood  fit  and  becoming;  that  the  busy  in- 
terests of  life  may  die  down  and  leave  us  free  to  go  out 
upon  a  full  tide  of  the  Spirit. 

We  are  in  serious  danger  of  crowding  out  the  Spirit 
from  the  days,  and  this  is  a  New  Year's  Day  plea  for  homes 
and  hearts.  Our  days  too  often  miss  the  rare  excellence 
that  somehow  seems  their  rightful  heritage.  We  feel  that 
there  is  "something  deep  and  satisfying,  and  really  close 
at  hand,  into  which  we  cannot  enter  nor  dwell. ' '  But  can 
we  not  find  the  secret  of  the  days,  and  rescue  the  fragrance 
of  their  departing  sweetness!  Our  special  days  supply 
at  least  one  answer,  if  we  shall  but  keep  them  special  and 
apart.  Great  experiences  of  the  Spirit  are  generally  de- 
feated by  trifles  which  absorb  and  depress  us.  These 
trifles  come  to  us  as  duties,  and  the  minute  and  manifold 
sense  of  obligation  shuts  out  the  larger  vision  in  which 
alone  we  may  find  peace.  Our  duties  come  between  us 
and  the  meaning  of  our  lives.  As  year  follows  year  and 
we  grow  older,  we  see  more  and  more  clearly  how  much 
of  the  higher  possibilities  of  life  we  have  missed  and  are 
missing,  not  only  through  blundering  and  sin,  but  by  the 
attempt  to  deal  conscientiously  with  an  over-crowded  life. 
To  all  who  feel  thus,  the  New  Year's  festival  brings  an 
unexpected  message.  Neglect  you  duties  now  and  then. 
Let  things  take  care  of  themselves,  and  do  you  live  your 
life  and  follow  the  vision.  The  Lord  claims  certain  days 
as  His  own.  Sundays  He  expressly  claims,  but  in  their 
degree  He  claims  also  Christmas,  New  Year's  Day,  and 
others.  It  is  not  a  day  that  comes  with  such  anniversaries, 
but  a  Spirit :  and  the  name  of  the  day,  if  the  Spirit  be 
wanting,  is  a  sarcasm.  It  is  ours  to  be  in  this  Spirit  on  the 
Lord's  Day. 


CONCERNING  GIFTS 

{Epiphany) 
The  gifts  of  the  Magi.— St.  Matthew  ii.  IV 

There  is  no  story  in  all  the  world  more  beautiful  than 
this.  There  is  the  wistfulness  of  long  wandering  about 
these  three  strangers,  star-guided  across  the  desert.  We 
think,  as  we  read,  of  the  Moslem  pilgrims  who  to  this  day 
may  be  seen,  shrouded  figures  upon  camel-back  in  that 
same  desert,  guiding  themselves  towards  Mecca  by  the 
selected  star  "at  the  left  ear."  And  these  are  but  stray 
instances  of  man's  long  search  for  the  highest  he  can  con- 
ceive. 

But  those  ancient  wanderers  were  generous,  and  travelled 
that  they  might  give.  And  in  this  very  simple  story  we 
find  among  other  things  a  strangely  applicable  hint  of  the 
true  spirit  of  generosity.  Christmas  was  a  time  of  gifts, 
and  now,  as  we  are  returning  from  its  festive  season  to 
plainer  days,  it  is  well  that  we  should  remember  some- 
thing of  its  lessons  about  giving.  Those  men  "saw,  and 
fell  down,  and  gave."  They  did  not  give  without  seeing, 
as  so  much  modern  charity  gives.  To  put  down  one's 
name  in  a  list  of  subscribers,  while  one  hardly  knows  what 
is  the  object  of  the  charity,  is  a  fashionable  way  of  sav- 
ing the  trouble  of  investigation  and  of  sympathy,  but  it 
is  not  worth  the  name  of  benevolence.  Nor  did  they  give 
without  falling  down.  Many  are  willing  to  be  generous 
who  are  yet  too  proud  to  bow  down  their  spirit  in  worship. 

(18) 


CONCERNING  GIFTS  19 

It  is  so  much  easier  to  give  than  to  fall  down  in  reverence 
and  humility:  but  liberality  will  not  be  accepted  in  lieu 
of  worship. 

For  Christmas  is  not  only  a  time  of  open-heartedness 
between  man  and  man.  It  brings  with  it  also  the  desire 
to  give  to  Christ — a  desire  which  sometimes  comes  to  us  all, 
though  we  do  not  always  understand  it.  Remembering 
God's  unspeakable  gift  to  us,  and  seeing  the  response  of 
those  " star-led  wizards  on  the  Eastern  road,"  we  cannot 
but  say  to  ourselves: — 

Hast  thou  no  verse,  no  hymn,  or  solemn  strain, 
To  welcome  him  to  this  his  new  abode. 

And,  if  we  may  so  far  follow  tradition,  it  is  worth  while 
to  remember  that  these  men,  opening  their  bales  of  treasure, 
brought  gifts  each  from  his  own  land.  The  gold  was  from 
India,  the  frankincense  from  Persia,  and  the  myrrh  from 
Arabia.  They  did  not  say  that  these,  the  products  of  their 
own  lands,  were  common  and  everyday  things,  and  set 
about  procuring  statues  from  Greece  or  tin  from  Britain. 
They  brought  what  they  had.  So,  for  us  all,  the  gift  that 
Christ  will  value  most  will  never  be  that  which  grows  in 
somebody  else's  country.  It  will  not  be  some  better  or 
nobler  thing  than  what  you  have,  but  just  that. 

Of  course,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  words,  this  means 
that  strange  and  precious  gift — yourself.  "Your  own  re- 
deemed personality"  is  the  one  gift  which  Christ  desires 
and  will  value.  Nay,  your  own  personality,  very  incom- 
pletely redeemed  as  yet.  We  are  not  what  we  might  have 
been,  we  are  not  what  we  ought  to  be,  we  are  not  what  we 
hope  to  be ;  but  such  as  we  are,  we  may  give  ourselves  to 
Him,  and  the  gift  will  not  be  rejected. 

As  to  these  three  gifts  of  the  story,  Matthew  Henry,  with 
his  pleasant  common  sense,  finds  in  them  simply  a  "season- 
able relief  to  Joseph"  in  his  poverty.     Ancient  commen- 


20  THINGS   ETERNAL 

tators  used  to  find  more  in  them  than  that,  seeing  in  the 
gold  a  tribute  to  a  king,  in  the  frankincense  an  offering 
to  a  God,  and  in  the  myrrh  a  burial  gift  to  the  dead ;  and 
precisely  the  same  ideas  are  to  be  found  in  at  least  one 
old  carol.  "Whether  the  beautiful  story  as  it  was  originally 
told  meant  this  or  not,  it  is  a  venerable  tradition,  and  it  is 
certainly  true  for  us. 

1.  Gold — the  tribute  to  a  king.  There  is  in  us  all  a 
response  to  royalty  and  a  delight  in  it.  The  child  who 
worships  strength,  and  makes  a  heroic  figure  of  any  famous 
athlete  or  player  of  games,  knows  the  meaning  of  this. 
For  the  grown  man  it  may  stand  for  the  secular  life  of 
work  and  politics,  the  life  most  richly  endowed  with  intel- 
lectual power  or  social  influence.  It  includes  business 
capacity,  professional  excellence,  expertness  in  art,  litera- 
ture, or  science.  All  this  region  is  the  royal  domain  of 
man's  secular  interests,  his  knowledge  and  his  power.  The 
reason  why  many  people  drift  away  from  faith  is  that  they 
seek  to  reserve  it  for  a  special  and  exclusive  compartment 
of  their  life,  which  they  choose  to  call  " religious.' '  Had 
they  brought  in  tribute  to  Christ  the  produce  of  their  own 
region,  the  gold  of  the  secular  life,  they  would  never  have 
drifted  at  all.  And  such  tribute,  offered  at  this  cradle, 
recalls  to  their  blessed  childhood  lives  which  otherwise  too 
surely  grow  out  of  it  into  unsimple  ways.  It  is  well  to 
offer  gold  at  Christ's  cradle. 

Born  a  King  on  Bethlehem's  plain, 
Gold  I  bring,  to  crown  Him  again, 
King  for  ever,  ceasing  never, 
Over  us  all  to  reign. 

2.  Frankincense — an  offering  to  God.  This  was  a  fra- 
grant resin  exuded  from  the  bark  of  a  certain  tree,  which 
formed  an  ingredient  of  incense  in  the  ancient  East.  In- 
cense was  offered  as  a  sweet  savour  to  the  Deity,  and  it 


CONCERNING  GIFTS  21 

became^  the  symbol  of  prayers  and  vows,  of  aspirations 
and  all  the  sweetness  of  man's  worship.  This  is  the  com- 
plement of  the  gold,  and  there  are  some  who  are  peculiarly 
rich  in  it,  people  who  are  born  with  a  genius  for  religion. 
It  is  an  element  in  the  life  of  all  children.  The  tender 
conscience  and  spiritual  longings  of  childhood  are  not  only 
normal  but  characteristic  gifts  of  the  early  days.  On 
through  later  years  this  faculty  persists.  Too  often,  in- 
deed, the  frankincense  is  laid  away  with  the  child's  toys. 
There  is  no  worship  any  more,  and  the  wistful  and  reverent 
child  grows  into  a  prayerless  man  or  woman.  Yet  there 
are  some  natures  so  richly  endowed  with  this  that  to  the 
end  of  life  they  cannot  be  satisfied  with  being  strong  and 
serviceable.  They  must  also  find  God,  and  offer  to  Him 
a  certain  exquisiteness  of  service.  They  present  their  most 
beautiful  and  fragrant  things,  and  about  their  lives  there 
is  ever  a  delicate  aroma  of  worship.  It  is  frankincense 
that  grows  in  their  country. 

But  it  grows  in  every  land,  and  even  those  whose  secular 
instincts  are  strongest  may  return  to  their  childhood  as 
they  offer  their  gift  at  this  cradle.  They  may  come  back 
from  the  busy  secular  life  with  its  striving  to  this  peace ; 
back  from  intellectual  perplexities,  till  they  are  once  more 
among  a  few  simple  things,  longing  after  God,  and  hearing 
again  the  call  to  worship  like  bells  long  silent. 

Frankincense  to  offer  have  I, 
Incense  owns  a  Deity  nigh, 
Prayer  and  praising,  all  men  raising, 
Worship  Him,  God  most  high. 

3.  Myrrh — for  burial  spiees.  Myrrh,  dropping  in  red- 
dish-brown drops  like  tears,  was  prized  for  its  sweet  scent 
— a  far-away  Eastern  kind  of  scent,  that  would  sweeten 
the  air  of  the  stable  while  the  little  child  lay  there.  But 
the  chief  use  of  myrrh  was  for  very  precious  ointment  with 


22  THINGS  ETERNAL 

which  they  embalmed  the  dead.  Long  afterwards,  when 
that  scent  rose  from  the  gift  of  Mary,  Jesus  at  once  said 
it  was  for  His  burial.  And  this  odour  of  burial-spice  was 
about  the  cradle  in  the  inn  of  Bethlehem. 

There  are  some  who  know  it  well.  They  are  acquainted 
with  grief,  with  loneliness,  with  anxieties,  and  bereave- 
ments. They  themselves  have  sorrowed  much,  and  felt 
the  sorrow,  the  pain,  and  the  death  around  them  in  the 
world.  Their  hearts  are  full  of  a  great  compassion,  and 
their  eyes  are  tearful.  Ah,  it  is  myrrh  that  grows  in  their 
country,  and  that  will  be  their  fitting  gift  to  Jesus.  The 
dying  and  the  ailing  folk,  the  poor,  and  the  sad,  and  the 
desolate,  will  know  the  odour  of  their  gift.  And  all  may 
bring  this  also,  for  all  must  grieve  and  weep  at  times. 
Only  let  them  offer  it  at  His  cradle  that  so  their  hearts 
may  be  kept  from  hardness,  with  a  tender  simplicity  in 
their  sorrow. 

Myrrh  is  mine,  its  bitter  perfume 
Breathes  a  life  of  gathering  gloom; 
Sorrowing,  sighing,  blinding,  dying, 
Sealed  in  the  stone-cold  tomb. 


THE  CONSECRATION  OF 
IMPERIALISM 

"He  leadeth  them  out."— St.  John  x.  3. 

It  is  of  peculiar  interest  now  and  then  to  cast  our  eyes 
back  to  the  origins  of  our  modern  institutions,  and  to  ob- 
serve the  background  of  our  advancing  civilization.  "When 
we  examine  even  the  newest  inventions  we  find  many  traces 
of  the  oldest  occupations.  We  are  all  the  children  of  prim- 
itive huntsmen,  sailors,  shepherds,  or  tillers  of  the  ground ; 
and  that  remotest  ancestry  has  an  incalculable  effect  upon 
the  development  of  humanity  to  its  latest  day.  But  of  all 
the  primitive  occupations  of  mankind,  there  is  none  that 
has  done  so  much  to  make  and  keep  life  gentle  as  that  of 
the  shepherd.  True,  the  shepherd  races  have  been  wild 
and  rude,  and  in  some  lands  the  word  " shepherd"  has 
been  almost  synonymous  with  "  robber. "  But  the  care 
of  lambs,  and  the  very  fact  of  dwelling  among  the  flower 
of  the  grass,  have  their  effect.  The  shepherd  life,  like  all 
other  phases  in  the  evolution  of  the  race,  tends  upwards 
towards  its  ideal.  Many  a  gentle  element  in  our  modern 
days  had  its  rude  beginnings  in  the  sheep-folds,  and  the 
Good  Shepherd  ideal  of  tender  pity  for  all  weakness  and 
suffering  was  learned  long  ago  in  prehistoric  fields. 

Much,  of  this  the  world  owes  to  the  Semites,  in  whom 
the  pastoral  instinct  is  deep  as  life  itself.  Every  one 
knows  how  close  are  the  relations  which  still  exist  between 
the  Eastern  shepherd  and  his  wandering  flock.     On  the 

(23) 


24  THINGS  ETERNAL 

hillsides  of  Judea,  with  the  subtle  music  of  the  pipe  quiver- 
ing faintly  in  the  twilight,  one  understands  all  the  detail 
of  the  twenty -third  Psalm  and  the  tenth  chapter  of  St. 
John's  Gospel.  At  Hebron  a  few  years  ago  a  traveller, 
noticing  that  the  sheep-folds  were  mere  c-shaped  walls, 
asked  a  shepherd  why  they  had  no  doors.  He  answered 
"I  am  the  door";  meaning  that  at  night  he  lay  wrapped 
in  his  cloak  in  the  open  entrance.  At  once  one  understands 
in  that  saying  what  Christ  meant  when  He  used  it.  In  the 
fold  of  faith  He  has  placed  himself  between  those  that  are 
His  and  all  the  world.  No  sheep  can  wander  without  pass- 
ing Him,  nor  can  any  ravenous  beast  enter  to  devour  but 
over  His  body.  Outside  are  the  trying  things,  the  tempt- 
ing things  and  dangers ;  within,  all  is  peace  and  safety,  and 
that  sweet  and  gentle  familiarity  in  which  ' '  He  calleth  his 
own  sheep  by  name." 

Yet  the  text  presents  another  aspect  of  shepherd  life. 
In  the  words  "He  leadeth  them  out"  our  faces  are  turned 
towards  the  future  and  the  wider  world.  In  Old  Testa- 
ment imagery  nothing  is  more  suggestive  than  the  fre- 
quency with  which  the  pastoral  and  the  military  ideas  are 
combined,  as  in  that  splendid  picture  of  God  leading  the 
hosts  of  Israel  "out  of  Egypt  like  a  flock."  So  it  ever 
must  be.  Faith,  indeed,  offers  a  safe  fold  to  believers,  but 
its  shelter  and  quiet  are  not  meant  to  last.  In  spite  of 
the  desire  which  has  expressed  itself  in  Roman  Catholic 
monasticism,  and  in  individual  reactions  in  Protestanism 
toward  the  secluded  life,  the  call  is  inexorable. 

Far  from  the  world,  0  Lord,  I  flee, 

From  strife  and  tumult  far; 
From  scenes  where  Satan  wages  still, 

His  most  successful  war; 

— every  one  can  understand  the  tired  fighter's  longing 
for  rest,  or  the  shrinking  of  a  timid  and  sensitive  spirit 


THE  CONCENTRATION  OF  IMPERIALISM      25 

from  a  world  with  which  it  found  itself  incompetent  to 
grapple.  Yet,  surely,  the  scene  where  Satan  is  waging  his 
most  successful  war  can  hardly  be  the  place  to  flee  from ! 
Where  else  should  the  Christian  be?  Such  sentiments  are 
well  enough  for  an  hour  of  weariness  when  relaxation  and 
rest  are  needed,  but  they  can  never  be  a  typical  state- 
ment of  the  Christian  life.  It  is  vain  for  any  healthy 
Christian  to  imagine  that  it  can  be  right  for  him  to  spend 
his  years  in  nursing  his  own  soul,  and  such  ideals  of  the 
devotional  life  are  but  a  refined  form  of  self-indulgence. 

Forth  from  the  casemate,  on  the  plain 
Where  honour  has  the  world  to  gain: 
Pour  forth  and  bravely  do  your  part, 
Oh  knights  of  the  unshielded  heart! 
Forth  and  for  ever  forward! — out 
From  prudent  turret  and  redoubt. 

For  the  words  of  Jesus  are  resolute  though  they  are  gentle. 

He  is  quite  determined  that  his  followers  shall  go  out. 

Life  in  this  world  is  not  meant  to  be  a  sheep-fold  for  the 

faithful;  it  is  an  affair  of  sterner  meaning,  With  action  in 

it  and  adventure. 

This  leads  us  into  the  public  life  of  our  times,  with  a  call 
to  understand  and  take  part  in  its  movements.  We  must 
go  out  as  thinkers,  with  fearless  exploration  of  new  fields 
of  truth;  as  workers,  to  take  up  the  unfinished  tasks  of 
the  world;  as  soldiers  to  fight  the  long-standing  evils,  and 
to  help  the  weak  causes  of  the  times ;  as  searchers  who  shall 
seek  until  they  find  the  lost.  Every  such  career  means 
risk  and  adventure,  a  strain  and  stress  of  energy  and  an 
uncertain  future.  We  are  flung  back  for  comfort,  not 
upon  the  warmth  and  shelter  of  the  fold,  but  upon  the 
character  of  the  shepherd.  It  is  a  more  wholesome  and  a 
more  bracing  comfort. 

The  practical  meaning  of  all  this  brings  us  at  once  to 
the  thought  of  our  national  life  and  work.  The  idea  of 
imperialism  is  in  the  air,  and  it  is  of  first  importance  to 


26  THINGS  ETERNAL 

attain  to  a  right  conception  of  the  trne  spirit  of  empire. 
There  is  no  need  to  touch  here  upon  the  politics  of  im- 
perialism. For  British  people  empire  is  a  fact,  and  travel 
is  an  instinct.  Never  since  the  days  of  Elizabethan  ad- 
venturers have  we  stayed  at  home.  This  is  more  or  1 
true  of  every  nation,  but  it  is  of  course  especially  true  of 
countries  whose  extensive  seaboard  has  forced  upon  them 
the  work  and  destiny  of  great  maritime  powers.  "We  find 
ourselves  heirs  to  large  responsibilities  which  we  dare  not 
and  cannot  surrender.  It  is  these  responsibilites  which 
force  upon  us  the  question,  Who  leadeth  us  out?  If  we 
are  to  go  forth  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  whom  or  what 
shall  our  flag  follow?  Shall  it  be  mammon,  or  the  mere 
instinct  of  wandering  and  adventure,  or  the  dream  of 
glory,  or  Jesus  Christ?  President  Roosevelt  in  a  recent 
speech  said :  "I  have  the  keenest  sympathy  with  the  spread 
of  the  English  empire,  and  I  have  that  sympathy  because 
and  so  long  as  the  spread  of  that  rule  means  benefit  to  the 
people  over  whom  it  goes."  It  is  ours  to  see  to  it  that  in 
the  management  of  empire  we  prove  ourselves  worthy  of 
such  praise. 

Our  foreign  mission  enterprise  is  one  way  in  which  we 
have  sought  to  meet  these  responsibilities.  Let  us  link 
on  the  missionary  with  the  imperial  idea,  for  foreign 
missions  are  but  the  baptism  of  imperialism  with  the  Holy 
Ghost.  Their  enterprise  carries  out  in  modern  times  the 
great  dreams  of  old — Augustine's  City  of  God,  Dante's 
De  Monorchia,  More'a  Utopia,  Bacon's  New  Atlantis. 
These  dreams  shall  be  fulfilled  when  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world  are  become  the  kingdom  of  our  God  and  of  his 
Christ.  In  this  light  all  narrower  and  poorer  elemenis 
fall  away  from  the  missionary  idea.  It  is  no  longer  a  piou* 
and  romantic  sentiment,  nor  a  matter  of  individual  evan- 
gelism conducted  in  picturesque  circumstances.  It  is  a 
great  department  of  statesmanship,  whose  end  is  the  eon- 


THE  CONSECRATION  OF  IMPERIALISM      27 

quest  of  the  world  for  the  empire  of  Jesus  Christ.  At 
home,  the  already  submerged  masses  of  the  community  are 
sinking  towards  despair  and  revolution ;  abroad,  vast  lands 
are  rising  into  what  may  well  become  a  godless  civilization, 
more  dangerous  to  the  world  than  their  ancient  barbarisms. 
Surely  the  Church  of  Christ  is  called  at  such  a  time,  not 
merely  to  individual  heroism,  but  to  statesmanship  of  the 
highest  order,  with  intelligent  strategy  and  concerted  ac- 
tion. Surely  our  Christian  life  today  is  to  be  regarded 
not  as  a  sheep-fold  but  as  a  crusade. 

But  there  is  much  British  life  abroad  outside  the  mission 
fields.  As  we  follow  in  imagination  the  sweep  of  sunrise 
across  the  world,  and  think  of  the  British  men  whom  it 
awakens  in  every  land,  we  cannot  but  ask  again.  AVho  will 
lead  them  out?  The  lands  into  which  thev  go  lie  open  to 
the  kingdom  of  God.  By  our  missionary  enterprise  we  can 
do  much,  but  we  can  do  more  by  the  sons  of  the  empire, 
if  their  standards  are  high  and  their  ideals  Christian,  in 
politics,  education,  industn~,  and  commerce.  Baptize  these 
with  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  and  you  shall  soon  leaven  the 
world. 

For  the  soldier  and  sailor  far  across  the  seas,  the  civil 
servant  in  India,  the  merchant  in  Singapore,  the  Chartered 
Company  clerk  in  Africa,  are  missionaries,  either  of  God 
or  of  the  devil.  They  are  giving  its  moral  tone  to  the 
empire,  and  either  blessing  or  cursing  the  world.  And  your 
offices  where  bo3~s  are  learning  business,  your  firesides  from 
which  your  sons  and  daughters  go  forth — there  you  are 
fixing  the  principles  and  setting  the  tone  which  they  will 
carry  with  them  to  far-off  lands.  Every  business  man 
among  his  clerks,  every  mother  kneeling  beside  a  British 
cradle,  may  be  determining  the  fate  of  nations,  and  setting 
the  time  for  the  coming  of  God's  kingdom  in  the  ends  of 
the  earth.  If  your  children  shall  go  forth,  as  most  as- 
suredly they  shall,  it  is  for  you  to  make  sure  of  this,  that 
Christ,  and  not  the  enemies  of  Christ,  shall  lead  them  out. 


LEADERSHIP,  FALSE  AND  TRUE 

"He  leadeth  them  out."— St.  John  x.  3. 

All  great  ideas  which  relate  to  the  national  and  public 
welfare  of  mankind,  return,  when  accepted  conscientiously, 
to  the  field  of  individual  life,  and  appear  there  in  simpler 
forms.  Our  first  responsibility  is  not  for  our  country  but 
for  ourselves.  There  are  dangers  lying  in  wait  for  us,  and 
sacred  places  unvisited  as  yet,  for  all  of  which  we  require 
a  leader.  So  the  words  apply  to  each  one's  daily  exit 
upon  the  world.  As  your  door  closes  behind  you  in  the 
morning,  and  you  go  forth  into  a  new  day's  moral  and 
spiritual  adventure,  who  leadeth  you  out  ? 

The  need  of  guidance  is  obvious,  and  all  the  wise  know 
and  confess  it.  Experience  has  taught  them  that  they  are 
never  intellectually  competent  until  they  are  learning  from 
a  higher  wisdom  than  their  own,  nor  morally  free  until  they 
are  obeying  orders.  The  attempt  to  go  unguided,  ulti- 
mately leads  to  wavering  faith,  mistaken  judgments,  ir- 
resolute and  tentative  movement;  and  sooner  or  later  in 
most  cases  it  leads  to  that  discouragement  and  darkness 
in  which  men  stand  still,  or  turn  to  retrace  their  steps. 
The  case  could  not  be  better  nor  more  beautifully  described 
than  it  is  in  Dinah's  sermon  in  Adam  Bede:  "As  soon  a^ 
we  lay  ourselves  entirely  at  His  feet  we  have  light  enough 
given  us  to  guide  our  own  steps ;  as  the  foot-soldier,  who 
hears  nothing  of  the  counsels  that  determine  the  course  of 

(28) 


LEADERSHIP,  FALSE  AND  TRUE  29 

the  great  battle  he  is  in,  hears  plainly  enough  the  word 
of  command  which  he  must  himself  obey."  There  is  a 
wistfulness  that  George  Eliot  would  have  confessed  to  be 
almost  envious,  in  these  words  that  come  from  her  pen. 
Every  great  spirit  longs  for  leading. 

But  the  situation  is  complicated  by  the  fact  that  there 
are  other  leaderships  which  offer  themselves.  First,  there 
is  circumstance.  Many  people  go  strolling  on  through  life 
uncommitted  to  a  course.  We  see  them  standing  at  the 
cross-roads,  and  their  course  seems  to  be  determined  al- 
most by  the  direction  of  the  wind,  so  open  are  they  to 
casual  influence.  Any  passing  example,  any  pressure  of 
the  crowd,  is  enough  to  lead  them  forward,  this  way  or 
that.  Few  things  are  sadder  than  the  spectacle  of  this 
helpless  flock  with  its  chance  shepherding  and  its  lack  of 
guiding  principles.  You  ask  them  why  they  are  doing 
this  or  that,  and  they  answer  that  they  had  heard  it  com- 
mended, or  that  something  they  had  read  suggested  it.  It 
never  occurs  to  them  to  inquire  whether  these  were  com- 
petent guides,  in  this  age  of  such  singularly  irresponsible 
guidance,  when  every  novice  is  shouting  out  advice,  and 
we  so  seldom  know  whether  our  oracular  literary  guides 
have  found  their  own  path  or  not.  But  our  Christian 
faith  offers  a  very  different  guidance.  Those  who  follow 
it  do  so  in  freedom,  with  thoughtful  and  deliberate  choice, 
constrained  not  by  the  accidental  hearing  of  an  unknown 
voice,  but  by  love  and  trust  For  their  Guide,  unseen  but 
yet  familiar,  goes  before  them,  and  they  know  His  voice 
and  follow  Him. 

Others  take  their  direction  from  fashion,  and  the  custom 
of  society.  It  seems  a  safe  guide,  and  indeed  the  reason 
why  so  many  choose  it  is  because  it  saves  them  the  risk  of 
originality.  Yet  when  we  analyse  it  we  find  that  in  the 
majority  of  cases  no  one  can  tell  who  started  the  fashion. 
At  some  unknown  time,   some  nonentity  chanced  to   do 


30  THINGS  ETERNAL 

something,  and  another  nonentity  copied  him,  and  so  the 
custom  arose.  In  their  day,  nobody  took  these  nonentities 
for  authorities;  yet  all  men  follow  them  now,  simply 
because  they  are  unknown.  But  the  very  note  of  Chris- 
tianity is  that  it  appears  erratic  to  the  outsider.  It  is 
original  if  it  is  anything.  The  Christian  is  a  new  creation, 
with  new  ways  unlike  those  of  others.  ' '  To  act  like  men, ' ' 
has,  from  the  days  of  the  prophets,  been  a  reproach  to  the 
people  of  God.  The  reason  again  is  that  they  have  a  guide 
unseen  by  the  eyes  of  the  rest.  Copying  Christ,  and  fol- 
lowing in  His  footsteps,  they  are  independent  or  the  many 
paths  in  which  others  wander. 

But  there  are  also  those  who  boast  that  they  find  their 
own  way  for  themselves.  Seeking  no  leading  from  above, 
and  regardless  alike  of  the  opinion  and  the  example  of 
their  fellows,  they  are  a  law  unto  themselves,  obeying  only 
their  own  will.  This  vaunted  self-will  is  largely  a  delusion. 
Indeed  there  is  generally  less  of  will  in  it  than  in  almost 
any  other  type  of  character.  They  are  really  dominated 
by  the  mood  of  the  moment,  and  thrt  mood  runs  back 
into  the  past.  Not  even  can  our  ov.  ^  ^ast,  ihe  habitual 
choices  which  largely  determine  our  moods,  account  for  it. 
Heredity  has  also  to  be  remembered;  and  it  is  probable 
that  those  whose  moods  are  most  commanding  owe  most 
to  heredity.  Some  obscure  ancestor  repeats  his  life  in 
them;  and  all  the  time  that  they  are  priding  themselves 
upon  their  independence,  they  are  really  following  docile 
in  the  steps  of  the  ancient  dead,  going  after  a  spectral 
guide  who  emerges  upon  them  from  the  grave.  The  Chris- 
tian's leadership  is  different.  He  follows  not  the  call  of 
the  dead  in  his  blood,  but  the  voice  of  the  living  in  his 
soul.  He  is  not  held  by  the  dead  hand  of  heredity  to  the 
moral  and  spiritual  ways  of  the  past,  but  with  sure  foot- 
steps he  is  moving  away  from  the  past  into  the  future  and 
the  will  of  Christ. 


LEADERSHIP,  FALSE  AND  TRUE  31 

" Christus  dux" — and  life  under  that  aspect  is  a  great 
thing  indeed.  Its  course  is  set  by  one  decisive  choice,  its 
direction  continued  in  imitation  of  His  example  and  under 
the  prompting  of  His  spirit.  He  leads  us  out  of  childhood 
into  youth,  and. that  is  adolescence;  out  of  ignorance  into 
knowledge,  and  that  is  education ;  out  of  the  old  home  with 
its  love  and  preparation,  into  the  new  home  with  its  new 
love  and  fulfilment  of  tasks,  and  that  is  the  man's  career; 
out  of  familiar  truth  and  thought  into  new  intellectual 
adventure,  and  that  is  the  inevitable  progress  of  thought 
which  no  man  needs  to  fear,  so  long  as  upon  the  title  page 
of  all  his  books  he  writes  "He  leadeth  them  out."  At 
last  he  leadeth  them  out  of  this  earthly  life  into  the  un- 
known and  wonderful  and  blessed  land  beyond — and  that 
is  death,  no  more  than  the  old  leading  through  new  fields. 

We  spoke  before  of  the  leadership  of  Christ  as  the  true 
imperialism,  but  in  actual  experience  there  come  times 
when  we  are  constrained  to  ask,  Is  this  empire  or  is  it 
exile?  For  we  find  ourselves  led  out  of  old  security  into 
battle  and+  dang  ,t  out  of  luxurious  sheltered  meadows 
into  paths  that  are  hard  and  dull,  out  of  small  complacent 
successes  into  new  and  strange  defeats.  The  waste  and 
risk  of  it  all  sometimes  terrify  the  spirits  of  those  who 
follow,  and  they  cry  out  upon  so  bitter  a  leading. 

It  is  well  here  to  remember  that  in  a  great  leader  two 
things  are  requisite.  Clearness  is  indispensable,  so  far  as 
directions  go,  and  the  detail  must  be  absolutely  plain.  And, 
apart  from  ease  or  difficulty,  there  is  not  any  reason  here 
to  murmur.  The  leading  may  be  bitter,  full  of  sacrifice 
and  suffering  at  times,  but  at  least  we  can  understand  our 
orders.  It  may  be  hard,  but  it  certainly  will  not  be  doubt- 
ful to  those  who  are  absolutely  willing  to  be  led.  And  the 
second  thing  requisite  in  great  leadership  is  unintelligibility. 
A  French  historian  wisely  says  that  no  leader  can  well 
dispense  with  what  he  calls  "an  unsoundable  depth."      If 


32  THINGS  ETERNAL 

we  were  consulted,  if  we  always  understood,  faith  would 
be  superfluous;  and,  for  some  reason  or  other,  it  is  abso- 
lutely manifest  that  here  it  is  appointed  to  man  to  live  by 
faith. 

And,  after  all,  there  is  nothing  which  really  concerns 
us  but  our  guide.  The  fact  of  Christ  matters,  and  the  rest 
is  all  included  in  it.  And  for  ever  more  He  justifies  His 
claim  to  leadership,  to  our  full-hearted  trust  and  implicit 
following.  There  is  a  firmness  in  those  quiet  eyes  of  His 
that  reassures  us.  This  is  one  who  knows  the  way,  and  is 
master  of  life  and  death.  Happy  indeed  are  those  who 
trust  that  leading  through  all  changes  of  apparent  good 
and  evil  fortune,  who  anticipate  the  life  of  heaven  by 
learning  here  upon  the  earth  to  "follow  the  Lamb  wither- 
soever He  goeth." 


THE  MAKING  OF  AN  APOSTLE 

(The  Conversion  of  St.  Paul) 

St.  Paul  the  Apostle. — Acts  ix.   1-9. 

This  is  the  story  of  one  of  those  profoundly  significant 
events  in  history,  on  which  the  whole  complexion  of  future 
thought  and  the  course  of  future  progress  turn.  St.  Paul 
is  one  of  those  Titanic  figures  of  the  past  about  whom 
everything  was  on  the  large  scale,  both  for  himself  and 
tor  the  world.  Intellectually,  his  views  of  truth  have 
become  a  fundamental  statement  of  the  creed  of  nineteen 
centuries;  practically,  he  is  the  master  empire-builder  of 
the  kingdom  of  God  in  the  world.  He  laid  hold  upon  the 
largest  conceptions  of  his  time — the  Hebrew  religion  and 
the  Eoman  Empire — and  he  transformed  them  into  the 
Christian  Church. 

But  it  was  not  by  the  natural  development  of  his  genius 
that  he  did  this.  Up  to  a  certain  moment  in  his  career, 
his  powers  were  running  to  waste,  spending  themselves 
in  the  most  futile  ways.  At  that  moment  something 
occurred  which  revolutionized  his  whole  life,  an  upheaval 
of  the  very  foundations  of  the  man.  The  word  '  conversion  • 
is  sometimes  so  lightly  used  that  many  earnest  people  are 
inclined  to  avoid  it.  It  often  means  simply  the  memory 
of  an  emotion,  which  has  left  the  man  without  a  master, 
and  without  a  task.  But  the  greatness  of  this  man's  nature 
ensured  the  thoroughness  of  the  change  in  him.  Such  a 
man's  conversion  is  a  tremendous  affair. 

(33) 


34  THINGS  ETERNAL 

It  is  worth  our  while  in  the  first  place  to  inquire  into 
the  events  which  led  up  to  that  change.  For  it  is  evident 
that  it  was  sudden  only  in  its  climax,  as  we  may  gather 
even  from  the  words  "kicking  against  the  pricks."  This 
is  borne  out  by  the  altogether  excessive  zeal  of  the  volun- 
tary inquisitor.  When  we  think  what  humble  folk  these 
early  Christians  were — slaves,  women  who  earned  their 
livelihood  by  trade,  odds  and  ends  of  the  below-stairs  life 
of  the  great  Empire — and  when  we  remember  how  he 
rushed  from  house  to  house  after  them,  and  how  everything 
was  at  its  harshest  and  most  violent,  we  can  see  the  un- 
naturalness  of  it  all.  No  one  likes  this  sort  of  work  for  its 
own  sake,  and  this  fiery  crusade,  self-imposed,  is  certainly 
suspicious. 

Who  lights  the  faggot  ? 
Not  the  full  faith;  no,  but  the  lurking  doubt. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  know  from  himself  that  he  had 
already  been  struck  tame  by  the  discovery  of  the  sinfulness 
of  coveting,  and  the  inward  nature  of  morality.  Pharisaic 
Judaism  could  do  nothing  to  help  him  in  that,  but  it  was 
a  first  principle  of  Jesus'  teaching.  And  there  was  much 
else  in  the  new  faith  that  must  have  strongly  attracted 
him.  The  character  of  Jesus,  and  of  His  followers,  was 
after  all  inexplicably  beautiful,  whatever  one  might  think 
about  their  principles.  Those  women  with  the  Madonna- 
like faces,  those  young  men  whose  eyes  were  full  of  spiritual 
light— undoubtedly  they  had  some  secret  of  gladness  and 
of  serenity  hidden  from  the  ancient  world.  Thus  he  was 
already  more  or  less  consciously  dissatisfied  with  Judaism 
and  tempted  towards  Christianity. 

Yet  such  a  change  meant  too  much  for  him  to  make  it 
possible  that  he  should  lightly  capitulate.  On  the  one 
hand,  it  was  unthinkable  to  his  proud  spirit  that  simple 
people  like  the  Christians  had  been  right,  while  he  and  all 


THE  MAKING  OF  AN  APOSTLE  35 

thinkers  whom  he  respected  had  been  wrong.  And  then, 
if  by  any  chance  it  should  be  true,  the  ghastly  alternative 
was  that  he  and  his  friends  had  seen  their  own  Messiah, 
and  crucified  Him.  No  wonder  that  he  felt  "the  anguish 
of  a  constant  misgiving."  It  was  the  clash  of  two  con- 
sciences within  him.  It  was  impossible  to  go  on  for  long 
with  this  hunting  of  such  small  and  defenceless  game 
without  a  pang;  and  yet  a  sorer  pang  threatened  him 
if  for  a  moment  he  admitted  the  possibility  of  his  nation's 
crime,  and  the  falsehood  of  her  fixed  convictions. 

It  was  characteristic  or  the  man  to  seek  to  settle  the  con- 
flict by  a  blind  and  furious  dash  for  one  side.  But  the 
journey  gave  him  much  enforced  leisure  when  he  was  not 
in  a  mood  that  could  bear  to  be  still.  Whatever  route  he 
chose  he  could  not  escape  daily  memories  of  Jesus  and  His 
doings.  He  was  no  longer  backed  by  public  opinion,  and 
the  solitary  ride  only  gave  freer  course  to  his  uncertain 
thoughts.  By  the  time  he  had  drawn  near  to  Damascus, 
he  was  evidently  growing  feverish.  No  eastern  travels  at 
high  noon  except  upon  compulsion.  Then  in  the  still  hot 
air,  while  the  merciless  sun  beat  on  him  and  his  unwilling 
and  sullen  companions,  the  city  burst  upon  his  view.  There 
are  some  places  where  nature's  beauty  shames  the  crimes 
of  man :  and  as  he  thought  upon  his  helpless  victims  among 
those  homes  and  gardens,  a  fierce  reaction  was  inevitable. 
And  all  this  for  an  uncertainty!  There  are  truths  for 
which  we  would  not  only  die,  but  even  kill.  But  such 
truths  must  be  certainties  indeed. 

There  is  no  need  for  curious  speculation  as  to  what  hap- 
pened  then.  It  was  then  that  Paul  met  Jesus  and  felt  the 
attack  of  light  upon  his  heart  and  conscience,  and  heard 
certain  plain  questions  that  must  find  definite  and  imme- 
diate answer. 

Yet  it  is  to  the  questions  that  Paul  asked  that  day  that 
we  turn  with  even  deeper  interest.    The  first  of  them  was, 


36  THINGS  ETERNAL 

"Who  art  Thou,  Lord?"  He  had  felt  before  that  all  this 
persecution,  this  harrying  of  people  at  once  so  blameless 
and  so  inflexible,  was  far  too  cheap  and  easy  a  solution. 
Behind  the  new  faith  lay  some  mysterious  power,  that  was 
good  and  not  evil,  associated  with  the  name  of  Jesus.  But 
though  he  had  often  before  asked  the  question  who  Jesus 
was,  yet  it  had  been  prejudice  which  asked  it,  while  now 
it  was  conscience.  He  had  been  aggravated  by  the  power 
of  the  dead  Nazarene  who  thwarted  him  at  every  turn. 
Who  was  he,  this  haunting  ghost,  this  troubler  of  his  times? 
But  now  irritation  has  given  place  to  shame,  and  conscience 
asks,  Who  art  Thou,  Lord?  That  change  from  prejudice 
to  conscience  was  one  point  in  which  his  question  sets  the 
type  for  such  questions  for  ever. 

Auother  is,  that  he  asked  it  of  Jesus  himself.  He  had 
formerly  asked  it  of  the  Rabbis  of  his  day,  and  now  he 
might  have  inquired  of  the  Apostles.  But  he  was  done  with 
the  Rabbis  now,  and  he  expressly  tells  us  that  it  was  three 
years  before  he  met  the  Apostles.  It  is  this  that  explains 
his  power.  His  truth  was  not  a  doctrine  learned  up  by 
study;  it  was  his  direct  experience,  his  first-hand  knowledge 
of  Jesus  Christ.  And  here  also  he  sets  a  lasting  type.  The 
ultimate  source  of  authority  in  Christian  faith  can  never 
be  either  the  Church  or  the  Bible.  These  themselves  are 
but  the  guardian  and  the  record  of  a  revelation  made  by 
God  to  the  spirit  of  man.  And  a  similarly  direct  revelation 
must  give  to  each  believer  his  fundamental  spiritual  con- 
victions. Each  must  ask  his  great  question  for  himself, 
and  for  himself  find  answer. 

Paul's  second  question  is  practical,  "What  wouldst  Thou 
have  me  to  do?"  As  the  former  sets  us  beside  the  springs 
of  his  thought,  so  this  reveals  the  sources  of  his  activity 
For  such  a  man  as  Paul,  conversion  without  commission 
would  have  been  a  sham  and  therefore  an  impossibility. 
But  the  great  point  to  notice  is  that  it  was  as  a  commission 


THE  MAKING  OF  AN  APOSTLE  37 

that  he  received  his  lifework,  and  in  that  light  that  he 
always  regarded  it.  Before  this  event,  he  had  set  himself 
his  tasks,  and  no  one  could  deny  the  earnestness  with  whicli 
he  performed  them.  Like  many  another  strenuous  man 
whose  task  is  self-appointed,  the  main  part  of  his  life- 
work  had  come  to  be  destructive.  He  was  occupied  rather 
in  opposing  other  people  than  in  doing  service  to  the 
world.  Such  destructive  energy  is  generally  to  be  dis- 
trusted when  it  claims  a  divine  inspiration.  There  is  too 
much  of  untamed  human  nature  in  it;  it  is  the  natural 
work  for  the  natural  man.  "When  a  man  receives  a  com- 
mission from  Jesus  Christ,  it  is  to  proclaim  some  positive 
gospel  rather  than  to  deny  the  gospel  of  another.  And 
that  change  from  self-will  to  the  will  of  Christ  broke  this 
man's  pride.  The  whole  stress  was  shifted  from  Paul  to 
Jesus,  and  he  who  had  once  been  so  sure  of  himself,  now 
treasured  his  dependence  on  his  Master  as  the  choicest 
thing  in  life.  He  had  capitulated  without  reservation,  and 
only  sought  now  to  receive  His  orders.  For  him  to  live 
was  Christ. 


THOUGHT  AND  ACTION 

St.  Paul's  retrospect. — Acts  xxvi.  19. 
St.  Paul  is  now  looking  back  from  near  the  end  of  his 

career  to  the  day  of  his  great  change.    From  that  day  to 

this  his  life  had  been  summed  up  in  the  two  words,  vision 

and  obedience.     The  vision  of  Jesus  had  expanded  into 

the  theology  and  religion  of  his  Epistles;  the  commission 

had  already  resulted  in  the  establishment  of  Christianity 

along  the  main  lines  of  the  Roman  Empire.    And,  because, 

not  for  Paul  only,  but  for  all  of  us,  loyalty  to  vision  is  the 

truest  expression  of  the  life  we  fain  would  lead,  we  shall 

think  what  that  implies. 

The  first  apparent  view  of  any  life  is  presented  by  its 
output  of  deeds.  The  Christian  life  is  not  that  of  vision- 
aries, it  is  a  life  of  action.  The  first  thought  of  those  who 
live  it  day  by  day  is  something  immediately  to  be  done. 
It  is  this  practical  quality  of  the  Christan  life  which  keeps 
it  both  healthy  and  honourable.  For  the  soul  as  for  the 
nation,  service  is  the  highest  honour.  A  right  man's  view 
of  his  profession  can  never  be  merely  that  it  is  a  means 
of  gain,  but  that  it  is  a  chance  for  service;  and  the  same 
thing  is  true  of  even  our  most  intimate  and  private  actions. 

Yet  this  cannot  be  all.  Every  one  remembers  Langland's 
immortal  figure  of  Haukyn  the  active  man,  who  has  not 
time  to  clean  his  coat.  Mephistopheles  is  Goethe's  great 
incarnation  of  fierce  and  clever  action  wholly  without  con- 

(38) 


TOUGHT  AND  ACTION  39 

templation.  And  these  are  but  extreme  forms  of  what 
is  seen  around  us  every  day.  Some  busy  ones  have  never 
seen  any  vision  at  all,  and  these  come  in  time  to  swell  the 
long  pathetic  line  of  the  ranks  of  the  dispirited.  For  la- 
bour without  light  cannot  permanently  inspire.  It  grows 
meaningless,  and  sinks  at  last  to  deep  and  sometimes  cynical 
discouragement.  Others  have  seen,  but  there  spiritual  light 
has  died  out.  They  are  committeed  by  that  former  vision 
to  a  course,  and  they  have  to  see  it  through.  Now  they  are 
but  poor  dumb  plodders,  cheerlessly  continuing  this  blun- 
dering night  work,  in  the  attempt  at  duty  which  they 
cannot  understand. 

The  mystery  of  this  failure  is  very  deep.  The  conception 
of  life  as  action  seems  in  every  way  so  sound  and  healthy 
that  we  stand  aghast  when  we  see  in  such  instances  "a 
man's  loss  come  to  him  from  his  gain."  But  the  explan- 
ation is  not  difficult  to  find.  St.  Paul  had  no  magic  secret 
that  kept  labour  sweet  to  him;  he  had  only  vision  and 
obedience.  But  he  had  them  in  that  order — vision  first, 
and  obedience  following  from  it.  It  is  not  mere  action 
that  is  the  secret  of  a  healthy  life,  but  action  performed  in 
loyalty  to  something  we  have  seen.  All  the  effective  activi- 
ties of  men  around  us  are  just  processes  for  turning 
thought  into  action — one's  own  thought,  or  the  thought  of 
others.  In  every  art  and  craft  and  enthusiasm  the  supreme 
secret  of  mastery  is  to  know  what  you  are  doing.  Archi- 
tecture is  simply  thought  which  has  expressed  itself  in 
stone,  or  else  it  is  sheer  abomination.  True  healing  comes 
not  from  routine  prescription,  but  finds  its  sources  deep 
among  the  springs  of  the  physician's  heart  and  imagination 
and  experience.  Social  reform  is  either  the  most  useless 
dilettantism,  or  it  is  the  creation  of  a  new  earth  upon  the 
lines  of  a  pattern  already  clearly  seen.  So  it  is  with  all 
good  work.  It  may  be  of  many  various  kinds  and  there 
may  be  very  many  different  ways  of  doing  it,  but  this  is 


40  THINGS  ETERNAL 

characteristic  of  them  all,  that  a  man  is  carrying  out  into 
deed  what  he  has  seen  in  his  mind.  Vision  ever  goes  before 
action,  and  true  action  is  loyalty  to  vision. 

In  a  still  wider  application  the  same  principle  is  true,  for 
the  inward  thought  invariable  affects  the  outward  life  and 
expresses  itself  sooner  or  later  there.  Not  that  one  neces- 
sarily carries  out  into  deeds  all  one's  cherished  thoughts. 
Dr.  Bain  affirms  the  ' '  possibility  of  leading  a  life  of  imag- 
ination wholly  distinct  from  the  life  of  action";  and  Mr. 
Leckie  says  that  "a  course  may  be  continually  pursued  in 
imagination  without  leading  to  corresponding  actions." 
This  is  undoubtedly  true,  but  it  is  a  thoroughly  dangerous 
fact.  On  the  one  hand,  it  produces  dreamers  whose  dreams 
are  so  far  apart  from  their  conduct  as  to  rank  them  among 
the  hypocrites.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  dreaming  be  bad, 
the  danger  is  very  great  that  in  times  of  temptation  the 
man  will  fall.  For  the  most  part,  in  temptation,  little 
depends  upon  the  will  at  the  moment;  we  stand  or  fall 
according  to  our  habitual  thoughts,  which  either  hold  us 
back  or  predispose  us  then.  And  apart  from  that,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  there  goes  out  from  every  life  upon 
those  around  it,  a  constant  and  subtle  influence  which  is 
determined  almost  wholly  by  the  inner  life  of  vision — the 
life  of  imagination  and  thought.  Thoreau  has  wisely  said : 
"If  ever  I  did  a  man  good  ...  it  was  something  excep- 
tional and  insignificant  compared  with  the  good  or  evil  I 
am  constantly  doing  by  being  what  I  am."  A  man's 
atmosphere  and  spirit  are  always  more  powerful  influences 
than  his  deeds  and  words. 

Thus  it  is  not  suurprising  that  the  matter  on  which  Chris- 
tianity lays  most  stress  is  vision.  The  thoughts  and  imag- 
inations of  the  heart ;  a  taste  for  fine  and  clean  things,  and 
an  instinctive  shrinking  from  their  opposites;  above  all  a 
clear  conception  of  Jesus  Christ  and  a  definitely  accepted 
relation  between  the  soul  and  Him — these  are  the  Christian 


THOUGHT  AND  ACTION  41 

fundamentals.  Christianity  has  vindicated  the  rights  of 
the  imagination  on  its  own  account,  apart  from  its  outward 
expression;  and  insisted  that  a  man  may  lose  his  honour 
and  respectability  there,  without  going  farther  afield. 
Christ  amazed  his  contemporaries  by  the  value  He  set  upon 
the  life  of  vision :  He  shifted  the  centre  of  attention  from 
outward  respectability  to  inward  seeing  and  light. 

Christianity  finds  men  filling  their  minds  with  sordid 
thoughts  or  foul  imaginations;  others,  like  the  prophet's 
servant,  it  finds  seeing  only  enemies — impossibilities,  dan- 
gers, anxieties,  discouragements,  misunderstandings,  diffi- 
culties. Both  alike  are  blind,  and  to  both  alike  Christ's 
Gospel  comes  as  daylight.  The  wholesome  world  is  all  about 
us,  plain  and  normal  and  quiet.  The  sun  is  in  the  heavens, 
and  in  his  light  we  see  light  clearly.  Looking  unto  Jesus 
and  walking  in  His  light,  we  are  no  longer  distracted  by 
the  will-o'-the-wisps  of  earth-bound  lusts,  the  swinging 
lanterns  of  the  opinions  of  others,  or  the  poor  candle  of 
our  own  mere  sense  of  duty.  Action  becomes  at  once  sure 
of  itself  and  glad  when  it  is  illuminated  by  vision.  There 
is  all  the  difference  in  the  world  between  doing  that  which 
we  have  seen  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  blindly  doing  the  best 
we  can. 


LOYALTY  TO  VISION 

St.  Paul's  retrospect. — Acts  xxvi.  19. 

St.  Pauls  's  career  as  a  Christian  began  in  two  supreme 
events — a  vision  and  a  commission.  To  the  end  he  goes 
back  to  them,  and  traces  their  effect  upon  his  future, 
telling  and  retelling  the  story  of  his  conversion.  Yet  no 
reader  of  his  writings  can  fail  to  see  that  vision  blends 
and  alternates  with  action  throughout  his  course.  The 
Epistles  are  constantly  turning  from  marvelous  lights  of 
revelation  to  most  practical  directions  for  living.  Thus 
from  him  we  learn  loyalty  both  to  past  and  present  light. 

1.  Loyalty  to  past  vision.  The  management  of  thoughts 
and  swift  imaginations  is  proverbially  difficult,  and  there 
is  much  disloyalty  to  the  visions  of  the  past.  It  is  to  be 
seen  in  literature,  and  it  is  to  be  seen  in  speech  and  life; 
and  few  things  are  sadder  than  to  watch  the  degenera- 
tion of  lives  whose  course  moves  from  light  to  darkness 

Some  are  distracted  by  the  fascinating  and  various  spec- 
tacle of  the  world;  others  are  seduced  by  the  temptations 
of  gain  and  popular  applause.  It  is  all  too  easy  to  live 
by  a  light  lower  than  one's  highest;  and  the  lights  of 
life  go  out  one  by  one  as  we  descend. 

"We  have  all  caught  sight,  at  one  time  or  other,  of  high 
ideals,  and  many  of  us  can  remember  a  time  when  we  saw 
Christ  in  His  beauty.  "  Loyalty  to  such  vision  is  the 
chief  source  of  strength  and  satisfaction  in  a  man's  life." 

(42) 


LOYALTY  TO  VISION  43 

The  light  of  life  is  necessarily  fluctuating.  Apart  from 
anything  for  which  we  are  responsible,  we  are  so  con- 
stituted as  to  live  in  a  constant  change  and  flux  both  of 
moods  and  of  intellectual  and  spiritual  powers.  Such 
changes  depend  on  bodily  health,  surrounding  circum- 
stances, and  countless  other  causes  which  we  cannot  wholly 
command.  Accordingly  it  will  often  happen  that  we  have 
to  remember  what  we  have  once  seen,  and  to  carry  out 
the  resolutions  which  then  we  formed.  These  resolutions 
are  no  longer  glowing  in  the  light  of  rece/it  vision.  They 
are  cold  and  dead  sometimes,  and  we  no  longer  feel  their 
urgency.  We  may  even  be  tempted  to  think  that  we  exag- 
gerated the  worth  and  necessity  of  them,  and  to  say  to 
ourselves  that  the  effort  is  not  worth  while.  Of  course 
all  this  is  still  more  dangerous  when  our  own  backsliding 
has  brought  about  the  change  of  mood. 

In  such  an  hour  idleness  is  fatal.  If  we  cannot  see  to 
do  the  highest  things,  let  us  at  least  do  something.  "If 
the  energy,  the  clearness,  the  power  of  intuition  is  flag- 
ging in  us,  if  we  cannot  do  our  best  work,  still  let  us  do 
what  we  can — for  we  can  always  do  something.  ...  if 
not  vivid  and  spiritual  work,  then  the  plain  needful  drudg- 
ery.'' But  besides  that  there  is  often  the  necessity  for 
dogged  perseverence  in  a  course  whose  value  we  can  no 
longer  see.  If  it  seem  irrational,  then  we  must  leave 
reason  alone  and  for  the  time  being  be  merely  obstinate. 

.    .    .     Tasks  in  hours  of  insight  willed, 
Can  be  through  hours  of  gloom  fulfilled. 

Nay,  they  sometimes  must  be  so  fulfilled.  It  is  part  of 
loyalty  to  say  to  our  tempted  and  wavering  spirits  that 
"Said  word  is  thrall,"  and  to  go  in  the  dark,  faithful 
to  the  tasks  we  set  ourselves  in  the  light. 

2.  Loyalty  to  present  vision. — The  grim  and  cheerless 
course  we  have  just  described  is  not,  however,  the  normal 


44  THINGS  ETERNAL 

way  of  Christian  living.  There  is  a  snare  in  trusting  to 
the  past  too  much,  and  striving  to  be  faithful  to  brilliant 
spiritual  experiences  which  are  no  longer  any  more  than 
memories.  The  Christian  ideal  is  loyalty  to  a  vision  con- 
stantly seen  at  the  time  of  action.  It  may  be  necessary 
sometimes  to  fight  to-day's  battle  by  the  light  of  other 
days,  but  as  a  rule  of  life  that  is  unsatisfactory  and  in- 
sufficient. It  is  good  to  remember  God's  grace  in  the  past, 
and  to  recall  His  promises  for  the  future,  but  it  is  better 
to  have  some  clear  vision  at  the  hour.  As  Constantine 
saw  the  cross  on  the  field  of  battle,  so  we  should  see  our 
spiritual  help  and  backing  at  the  time  of  our  practical 
need. 

Nor  is  this  so  hopeless  a  matter  as  perhaps  it  seems. 
It  is  not  a  peculiar  facult3T  preserved  only  by  those  whose 
natural  powers  of  imagination  are  great,  or  whose  genius 
for  the  spiritual  is  exceptional.  Religion  is  for  all  sorts 
and  conditions  of  men,  and  not  for  a  favoured  few;  it 
is  for  every  day  of  a  man's  life,  and  not  for  red-letter 
days  only.  The  power  of  vision  may  be  increased  or  les- 
sened, like  any  other  of  our  powers.  Such  dark  loyalty  as 
we  have  already  described,  when  a  man  is  obstinately  faith- 
ful to  an  ideal  which  for  the  moment  has  ceased  to  attract 
him,  will  certainly  lead  towards  a  renewal  of  that  vision. 
"Alacrity  and  readiness  to  discern  spiritual  things  may 
be  cultivated";  and  he  who  puts  forth  his  energy  and 
lives  to  the  full  stretch  of  his  spiritual  powers,  will  find 
that  "with  every  advance  in  spiritual  growth  come  greater 
distinctness  of  vision,  finer  susceptibility  to  spiritual  sug- 
gestions, an  increase  power  of  reading  spiritual  signs  and 
indications,  and  a  firmer  hold  on  spiritual  realities." 

The  conditions  of  such  recovery  and  increase  of  vision 
are  mainly  three.  Purity  is  of  course  essential,  and  if 
evil  thoughts  have  blurred  the  vision,  these  must  be  got 
rid  of.    Not  that  any  direct  attack  will  expel  them ;  often 


LOYALTY   TO   VISION  45 

the  very  effort  and  attention  employed  in  combating  them 
seem  to  increase  their  vividness.  But  the  occupation  of 
the  mind  with  healthy  interests  will  drive  them  out  to  make 
room  for  better  company.  And  the  vision  is  nearer  to 
those  who  live  keenly,  with  delight  in  the  wholesome  things 
that  work  and  play  offer  them,  than  to  those  who  stand 
aloof  and  seek  for  light  by  ascetic  withdrawal.  Peace  also 
is  essential.  Sometimes,  indeed,  the  vision  flashes  upon 
the  battle-field,  but  that  is  an  act  of  God  for  which  we 
can  make  little  arrangement.  But  when  life  is  crowded 
with  work  and  worry  it  is  sometimes  possible  to  "have 
courage  to  rest, ' '  and  it  is  not  only  the  pure  heart  that  sees 
God,  but  also  the  quiet  heart.  And  patience  is  often  de- 
manded if  we  would  see — the  patient  attendance  upon 
that  which  is  fine  and  good.  For  a  time  Christ  may  seem 
uninteresting  and  His  ideals  dull.  But  in  reality  they 
are  the  very  splendour  of  God,  and  the  soul  that  seeks 
shall  find.  There  are  stars  so  distant  that  no  eye  can  see 
them,  yet  the  photographic  telescope  pointed  steadily  to 
that  field  of  darkness  where  they  hide,  receives  their  in- 
finitesimal shafts  of  light,  and  their  images  are  seen  upon 
the  plate.  So,  though  the  night  be  dark,  the  soul  that 
turns  away  from  lower  things  and  resolutely  points  toward 
Christ,  will  yet  see  the  image  of  the  King  in  His  beauty, 
and  behold  a  land  that  is  very  far  off. 


CHRIST'S  LESSONS  IN  PRAYER 

"Lord,  teach  us  to  pray." — Luke  xi,  1. 

The  disciples  had  all  prayed  many  times,  and  yet  they 
came  to  Jesus  with  this  request.  For  they  were  not  satis- 
fied with  their  praying.  Their  hearts  were  full  of  long- 
ings for  which  they  could  not  find  utterance,  and  the 
silence  in  which  they  dwelt  oppressed  them.  For  answer, 
Jesus  began  by  teaching  them  how  not  to  pray.  It  may 
well  be,  that  with  such  bad  examples  of  devotion  in  their 
synagogues  and  streets,  the  very  habits  of  devotion  which 
they  had  formed  were  hampering  them.  The  request  itself 
may  give  a  hint  of  this,  as  if  prayer  were  an  art  which 
might  be  taught  by  rules.  The  Pharisees  were  past  masters 
in  the  art  of  prayer,  but,  in  Jesus'  sense,  they  knew  not 
how  to  pray  at  all.  For  prayer  is  not  an  art  but  a  spirit, 
and  when  it  has  become  an  art  it  has  ceased  to  be  prayer. 

The  immediate  answer  of  Jesus  was  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
and  its  first  words  gave  them  all  they  had  a^ed.  "Our 
Father' ' — when  He  had  said  that  He  had  taught  them  to 
pray.  For  the  whole  secret  of  prayer  is  the  artless  child- 
like spirit,  with  its  simplicity,  confidence,  and  love. 

In  the  first  petitions  He  guards  prayer  from  the  sel- 
fishness which  is  a  peculiar  danger  of  the  devotional  life. 
There  is  a  kind  of  devotion  which  is  so  secretive  as  to  give 
almost  a  suggestion  of  something  illicit,  and  against  that 
subtle  error  His  prayer  warns  them.    True,  He  told  them 

(46) 


CHRIST'S  LESSONS  IN  PRAYER  47 

to  pray  in  secret  behind  closed  doors.  But  having  shut 
the  door  of  their  chamber  they  are  to  open  the  door  of 
their  heart  to  their  fellow-men  in  remembrance  and  sym- 
pathy. " Hallowed  be  Thy  name" — and  with  these  words 
we  feel  ourselves  at  once  in  the  great  congregation  of 
those  that  worship.  A  vast  multitude,  under  the  shelter 
of  the  eternal  wings,  is  praying  along  with  us,  and  we 
are  one  with  them  in  the  communion  of  the  saints.  * '  Thy 
kingdom  come,  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven' ' 
— the  words  reveal  the  multitude  of  those  that  labour. 
They  sound  the  call  of  the  morning,  and  the  hosts  of  work- 
ers go  forth  to  their  daily  toil,  as  we,  too,  must  go.  Through 
the  honest  work  of  the  world  the  kingdom  of  God  is  com- 
ing on  the  earth,  and  in  heaven  they  are  working  too,  at 
tasks  more  worthy.  So  in  all  this  part  of  it,  the  prayer 
breathes  the  wholesome  spirit  of  the  common  life  of  man. 
"We  are  out  among  our  fellows,  taking  part  in  the  mani- 
fold worship  and  labour  of  the  world. 

The  second  part  is  occupied  with  the  two  ideas  of  bread 
*ind  sin.  The  daily  bread  tells  of  the  whole  needs  of  the 
bodily  life.  If  a  man  wakes  hungry,  let  him  tell  God 
the  thought  that  has  thus  come  first.  Here  is  a  day  to  be 
lived  through  and  labour  waiting  to  be  done  ,  and  the  man 
lifts  his  heart  to  God  for  the  necessary  support  which  will 
carry  him  through  it.  But  the  next  thought  is  of  yester- 
day. Bread  was  given  them,  and  the  strength  it  brought 
was  used  for  sinning.  The  deep  shame  of  that  betrayal 
needs  forgiveness ;  and  the  necessary  consequence  is  plain, 
that  the  forgiven  must  forgive.  But  this  day  must  be 
lived  out,  and  yesterday's  failure  has  warned  us  of  its 
danger.  "Lead  us  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  us 
from  evil" — was  Jesus  thinking  then  of  His  own  first  temp- 
tation, the  temptation  of  bread,  we  wonder?  It  may  well 
have  been  so,  and  there  are  few  of  us  who  will  not  at  once 
understand   His   far-reaching  sympathy  with  us  in  this 


48  THINGS  ETERNAL 

dangerous  life  of  ours,  when  we  hear  Him  teach  us  to  pray 
for  bread  without  temptation. 

The  Lord's  Prayer  was  not  given  as  a  ritual  or  formula 
of  prayer  to  be  superstitiously  repeated.  It  was  not  even 
given  as  in  any  exhaustive  sense  a  " model"  prayer,  for 
much  is  omitted  from  it  which  we  shall  often  need  to 
ask.  It  is  rather  fundamental  than  complete,  setting  for 
us  on  the  one  hand  the  broad  and  generous  spirit  of  sym- 
pathy with  our  fellows  and  their  life,  without  which  de- 
votion tends  to  self-indulgence;  and  on  the  other  hand 
selecting  the  elementary  needs  of  men,  bread  for  the  body 
and  purity  for  the  soul. 

That  was  his  immediate  answer,  but  he  gave  them  two 
other  answers  to  their  request.  His  example  taught  them 
to  pray.  As  they  followed  Him,  they  saw  that  He,  who 
apparently  needed  least,  yet  prayed  most  of  all  men.  Con- 
stantly He  retired  to  pray  upon  the  mountains,  and  all 
the  skylines  of  Palestine  were  marked  in  their  memory 
with  spots  where  He  knelt  in  prayer.  While  they  were 
toiling,  and  as  they  lay  down  to  rest  after  a  toilsome  day, 
they  would  many  a  time  remember  that  He  was  praying 
for  them  then.  And  that  remembrance  must  have  been 
at  once  a  conscience  and  a  safeguard.  It  was  a  conscience, 
for  if  he  must  pray,  so  surely  far  more  must  they ;  and  the 
thought  of  His  prayerfulness  would  often  drag  them  to 
their  knees  when  the  flesh  was  weak  and  the  spirit  weary. 
But  it  was  also  a  safeguard.  The  Syrians  speak  of  the 
lamps  of  hermits  shining  through  the  night  from  far  seen 
hill-side  caves,  as  " hands  folded  in  prayer."  So  the  re- 
membrance of  the  Master,  withdrawn  but  not  forgetting 
them,  must  often  have  made  the  day  feel  safe,  and  taken 
its  terror  from  the  darkness.  There  could  be  no  better 
defence  than  the  prayers  of  Jesus. 

But  the  greatest  answer  of  all  which  Jesus  gave  to  that 
request  lay  in  the  simple  fact  that  He  was  Himself.    There 


CHRIST'S  LESSONS  IN  PRAYER  49 

are  some  of  our  friends  whose  very  presence  is  an  influ- 
ence upon  us  towards  holy  things.  In  their  company  we 
feel  our  souls  drawn  nearer  to  God,  and  we  desire  to  pray. 
In  the  well-known  picture  of  Satan  watching  the  sleep  of 
Christ,  there  is  something  wistful  in  the  expression  and 
attitude  of  the  enemy,  as  if  even  over  the  foulest  heart 
the  Saviour  has  cast  His  spell.  And  the  disciples  found 
that  as  they  lived  with  Jesus  they  turned  instinctively 
toward  God.  Every  hour  of  His  company  taught  them 
to  pray.  He  brought  them  to  their  best,  and  awakened 
all  their  slumbering  desires  after  God  and  holiness. 

All  these  answers  to  the  disciples'  request  remain.  The 
Lord 's  Prayer  is  upon  our  lips,  with  its  wide  and  generous 
spirit,  and  its  petitions  for  fundamental  needs.  His  own 
prayers  are  still  for  us  also  a  conscience  and  a  defence. 
But  most  of  all,  by  being  what  He  is,  He  lifts  the  heart 
of  the  world  for  ever  towards  its  God.  No  one  can  face 
the  thought  of  Jesus  without  aspiring  towards  better 
things.    To  remember  Him  is  to  seek  after  God. 


PREPARATION  FOR  THE  BEST 

(First  Sunday  in  Lent) 

"A  people  prepared  for  the  Lord." — Luke  i.  17. 

When  we  speak  of  preparing  ourselves  for  the  future,  we 
commonly  think  of  some  coming  evil.  Life  is,  in  our 
familiar  and  apposite  metaphor,  a  campaign;  and  "  it  is 
usual  in  war  for  the  guns  and  the  sentinels  always  to  face 
towards  the  enemy  however  far  off  he  may  be."  There 
is  an  instinctive  sense  of  enemies  in  this  mortal  life  of 
ours,  and  every  day  looks  forward  more  or  less  anxiously 
to  its  to-morrow.  Men  have  so  generally  acknowledged  this 
state  of  matters  that  there  are  few  vaunts  which  have 
a  more  honourable  sound  to  our  ears  than  the  old  Latin 
one  in  utrumque  paratus.  Yet  the  phrase  is  sad.  Its 
•readiness  for  either  fate  suggests  alertness,  but  has  a  cer- 
tain desolate  suggestion  also :  it  acknowledges  the  possibil- 
ity of  the  better  chance,  but  it  somehow  seems  to  expect  the 
worse. 

So  it  comes  to  pass  that  we  are  far  more  seldom  ready 
for  the  better  than  for  the  worse  event.  Preparedness  for 
the  best  things  is  rare,  because  we  do  not  realize  that  they 
need  preparation,  and  concentrate  our  attention  in  steel- 
ing ourselves  against  possible  adversity.  By  so  doing  we 
miss  many  of  life's  highest  opportunities,  and  we  find  our 

gain  turn  to  loss.    Many  a  man  is  prepared  for  misfortune 

(50) 


PREPARATION  FOR  THE  BEST  51 

but  not  for  prosperity.  Defeat  would  have  found  him 
brave  and  patient,  victory  makes  him  overbearing  and  sel- 
fish. Loss  would  have  drawn  out  his  nobler  qualities  of 
industry  and  determination;  wealth  corrupts  him  with 
selfishness  and  luxurious  indulgence  and  display. 

The  same  thing  happens  in  religion.  Many  a  Parsifal 
is  able  to  combat  and  unhorse  his  enemy,  and  yet  is  stupe- 
fied and  blunders  irretrievably  when  he  sees  the  vision  of 
the  Holy  Grail.  Many  an  adventurer  like  Jacob  looks 
back  ruefully  upon  an  hour  of  far-reaching  promise  and 
spiritual  opportunity,  saying  "  Surely  God  was  in  this 
place  and  I  knew  it  not."  The  world,  in  the  beginning  of 
the  first  century,  was  adjusting  itself  to  Augustus  as  best 
it  might;  but  when  Christ  came,  the  world  knew  Him 
not.  We  are  often  prepared  to  meet  the  devil:  to  meet 
our  God  we  are  not  prepared. 

In  the  Church  Year  the  great  events  of  the  Christian 
story  group  themselves  into  cluster  from  Palm  Sunday 
to  Whitsunday,  breaking  the  routine  of  the  daily  life  with 
the  splendid  memories  of  Christ's  passion  and  resurrec- 
tion and  the  coming  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  It  is  fitting  that 
before  this  season  the  Church  should  have  set  apart  a  prior 
season  of  special  preparation.  It  is  true  that  the  coming 
of  the  Lord  is  not  confined  to  any  set  occasions,  and  that 
the  only  true  preparation  for  it  is  the  quiet,  constant 
daily  preparation.  Thomas  a  Kempis  wisely  says:  "He 
that  prepareth  not  himself,  except  only  when  a  festival 
draweth  near,  or  when  custom  compelleth  him  thereunto, 
shall  to  often  be  unprepared."  Yet  it  is  wise  to  let  the 
season  remind  us  yearly  of  our  holiest  things,  and  un- 
doubtedly those  who  by  the  exercise  of  recollection  have 
prepared  themselves,  are  most  likely  to  see  and  recognize 
the  Lord  when  they  meet  Him. 

Tennyson's  lines  are  singularly  appropriate  to  such  a 
season : — 


52  THINGS  ETERNAL 

How  pure  at  heart  and  sound  in  head, 
With  what  divine  affections  bold 
Should  be  the  man  whose  thought  would  hold 

An  hour's  communion  with  the  dead. 

No  words  could  more  exhaustively  express  their  thought. 
But  they  are  still  more  appropriate  to  a  season  of  com- 
munion with  the  Living  God,  as  He  is  revealed  in  the  events 
which  the  Church  will  soon  be  commemorating. 

First,  there  is  the  preparation  of  the  purification  of 
the  heart.  All  meditation  leads  that  way  at  once.  There 
is  much  to  be  forgiven  before  we  can  hope  to  understand 
and  triumph,  and  there  is  much  also  to  be  changed.  It  is 
only  the  pure  in  heart  who  can  by  any  means  see  God,  and 
the  evil  habits  of  thought,  imagination,  and  desire  must 
be  searched  out  and  put  way.  What  softness  and  self- 
indulgence,  what  malice  and  resentment,  what  harshness 
and  cruelt}^  still  linger  in  us  all!  How  unwilling  we  are 
to  understand  the  mind  of  Christ ;  how  selfish  and  greedy 
of  pleasure,  how  determined  in  our  demand  for  our  own 
way.  But  here  is  a  great  opportunity  and  call  to  return 
back  to  the  simplicity  of  little  children,  to  cast  ourselves 
at  the  outset  before  the  Cross,  and  eagerly  to  consent  to 
the  cleansing  fires  of  conscience  and  the  love  of  Christ. 

But  there  is  also  much  to  understand,  and  communion 
with  God  along  the  channels  of  the  central  beliefs  of 
Christendom  implies  much  reflection.  The  conventionali- 
ties of  daily  life  have  put  our  thoughts  out  of  proportion 
and  perspective.  Its  facile  acquiescences  have  dulled  our 
power  of  judging  and  distinguishing.  Its  false  emphasis 
has  subverted  our  sense  of  truth.  Its  unwholesome  moods 
have  poisoned  our  views  of  many  things.  It  fuss  and 
crowding  have  distracted  and  confused  us.  Minds  in  such 
a  condition  are  in  no  sense  competent  for  the  highest 
thoughts.     It  requires  a  season  of  aloofness,  of  as  much 


PREPARATION  FOR  THE  BEST  53 

silence  and  peace  as  life  will  allow,  and  of  honest  and 
laborious  thinking  and  recollection  of  the  scattered  facul- 
ties, before  we  are  fit  to  meet  our  God  in  communion.  There 
is  nothing  which  the  present  generation  needs  so  much 
as  discipline  of  the  mind  for  serious  thinking.  The  dim- 
ness of  faith,  and  the  consequent  feebleness  of  religious 
life,  are  to  be  cured  mainly  by  studying  afresh  the  thoughts 
of  really  great  thinkers,  and  by  persistently  setting  the 
attention  and  holding  it  set  in  the  direction  of  the  central 
truths. 

But  there  is  also  necessary  the  boldness  of  divine  affec- 
tions. We  all  admit  that  the  world  is,  one  way  or  another, 
too  much  with  us.  Preparation,  therefore,  must  include 
the  practice  of  looking  beyond  the  world,  and  carrying  up 
our  thoughts  and  feelings  to  God  himself.  But  it  requires 
daring  to  train  our  eyes  on  the  Divine,  and  none  but  the 
courageous  in  heart  will  succeed  in  doing  it.  For  the 
affections  that  are  to  find  God  in  Christ  must  travel  along 
the  two  lines  of  our  worst  and  of  our  best. 

Let  us  offer  to  Him  our  worst,  and  dare  to  face  the 
worst  that  we  may  offer  it,  crying  to  Him  from  the  depths. 
It  is  a  sorry  offering,  of  the  wreckage  of  broken  resolutions 
and  desires  that  have  been  in  the  slime  of  earthliness,  and 
love  that  has  wandered  and  come  half-heartedly  back  to 
faithfulness  to  Him.  This  is,  indeed,  the  only  place  where 
such  an  offering  has  any  value  set  upon  it.  No  other  than 
God  would  accept  such  things,  and  it  requires  a  courageous 
faith  to  bring  them.  Yet  the  courage  will  be  abundantly 
rewarded.  There  is  no  aspect  of  the  glory  of  the  Lord 
so  brilliant  as  the  glory  of  God  the  Saviour  seen  from 
the  depths  of  shame.  There  is  no  beauty  that  can  compare 
with  the  beauty  of  Christ  seen  through  tears  of  penitence. 

And  no  less  courage  is  demanded  for  the  offering  of 
our  best  to  God.  In  the  discouragement  of  contrition 
we  are  apt  to  disbelieve  in  any  loftiness  or  greatness  that 


54  THINGS  ETERNAL 

we  may  ever  have  seen  in  life.  Yet  life  is  good  and  great 
in  spite  of  us  and  our  failure,  and  we  have  not  surrendered 
our  heritage  in  its  nobilities.  However  far  we  have  come 
short  of  realizing  it,  the  ideal  self  still  floats  before  our 
aspirations,  and  calls  us  upward.  Let  us  offer  to  God  the 
manhood  we  would  fain  achieve,  the  intermittent  but  genu- 
ine longings  after  holy  things,  the  attempts  to  do  right  and 
play  the  man  in  difficult  circumstances. 

In  a  word,  let  us  face  and  fully  recognize  both  our  weak- 
ness and  our  strength,  our  worst  and  our  best.  Let  us 
bring  them  both,  a  strange  offering  of  contrasts,  to  His 
feet;  that,  in  our  communion  with  Him,  His  power  and 
His  love  may  go  out  upon  them  both,  and  recreate  us  after 
His  image. 


THE  PREPARATION  OF  WORDS 

(Second  Sunday  in  Lent) 

"Take  with  you  words." — Hosea  xiv.  2. 

This  text  at  first  sight  appears  startlingly  defective  as  a 
guide  to  men  who  would  approach  their  God.  Micah  speaks 
otherwise — ''What  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee,  but  to  do 
justly,  and  to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy 
God?"  In  the  fifty-eight  chapter  of  Isaiah  we  have  a  still 
more  elaborate  demand  for  various  services  toward  the 
unfortunate,  as  the  only  terms  on  which  God  will  consent 
to  man's  approach.  But  here  we  read,  Take  with  you — 
words ! 

Our  heart  sinks  as  we  read  it.  The  world  is  all  deaf 
and  stupefied  with  speaking.  "It  is  the  word  too  much 
which  wrecks  the  majority  of  human  schemes."  We  know 
too  well  the  futility  of  language  to  express  the  deepest 
things.  Words  are  so  constantly  misunderstood,  and  furth- 
er words  of  explanation  are  so  useless  to  remove  the  mis- 
understandings. Especially  is  this  true  of  religion,  where 
language  has  been  one  of  the  worst  enemies  of  faith,  cramp- 
ing, falsifying,  and  embittering  man's  thoughts  of  God. 
Silence  is  not  only  "the  fortress  of  the  strong,"  it  is  often 
the  best  language  of  the  devout.  What  would  the  Apostle 
James  say  to  this,  with  his  scathing  sarcasm  against  those 
who  gave  words  where  deeds  were  required?  Nay,  what 
did  the  Master  say  concerning  those  who  imagined  they 
would  be  heard  for  their  much  speaking? 

(55) 


56  THINGS  ETERNAL 

And  yet  what  an  emancipation  is  here!  The  nation 
was  anxious  in  those  days  before  the  fall  of  Samaria. 
Distracted  people  were  turning  to  idols,  to  the  ritual  of 
sacrifice,  to  the  help  of  puppet-kings,  to  alliances  with  As- 
syria and  with  Egypt.  The  greedy  gods  of  the  heathen 
were  demanding  offerings  of  gold,  and  hideous  deaths  of 
children;  and  superstitious  Israelites  were  thinking  that 
Jehovah,  too,  must  be  appeased  in  some  such  costly  fashion. 
Words! — by  their  very  worthlessness  they  mark  the  sub- 
lime contrast  between  this  God  and  all  other  gods.  This 
is  the  proclamation  of  free  grace,  long  before  the  coming 
of  Jesus.  Already  the  prophet 's  heart  was  crying,  *  '  Noth- 
ing in  my  hands  I  bring."  The  whole  Gospel  of  Christ  is 
here,  and  the  marrow  of  Reformation  theology.  He  who 
brings  only  words,  if  they  be  right  ones,  has  performed 
the  great  act  of  faith.  "For  the  Lord,"  as  Thomas  a 
Kempis  says,  "bestoweth  His  blessings  there  where  He 
findeth  His  vessels  empty. ' ' 

Men  are  to-day  wondering  what  it  is  to  be  a  Christian, 
and  asking  anxiously  what  it  is  that  God  really  wants  from 
them.  This  is  all  that  He  requires,  and  most  people, 
thinking  that  some  great  thing  is  wanted,  bring  too  much. 
He  wants  words,  and  to  consent  to  that  demand  is  the 
only  way  in  which  we  can  show  a  whole-hearted  trust  in 
His  generous  and  fatherly  love.  There  are  words,  which, 
if  we  could  but  find  and  speak  them,  would  wholly  satisfy 
the  demand  of  God.  Ah,  those  unfound,  unspoken  words 
of  faith  and  penitence!  the  whole  chance  of  our  religious 
life  lies  in  them.  So  the  saying  of  the  prophet  stirs  up  our 
wistfulness  and  curiosity  about  that  hidden  language,  and 
we  reverse  the  familiar  text  and  cry,  "I  would  speak  what 
God  the  Lord  will  hear." 

In  one  aspect  the  command  suggests  something  in  the 
nature  of  a  liturgy.  Though  the  words  may  be  our  own, 
yet  they  are  to  be  "  taken  with  us."    Words  are  all  that 


THE  PREPARATION  OF  WORDS  57 

are  asked  for,  yet  evidently  they  are  to  be  choice  words, 
the  best  that  we  Can  bring. 

No  one  will  dispute  the  value  of  the  great  liturgies,  in 
which  worship  and  aspiration  have  clothed  themselves  ac- 
cording to  their  nature  in  fitting  language.  The  Psalter, 
the  liturgies  of  the  Eastern  and  Western  Churches,  of  the 
Church  of  England,  of  John  Knox,  have  guided,  dignified, 
and  made  effective  the  worship  of  saints  for  two  thousand 
years.  They  admonish  us  as  to  carefulness  in  the  expres- 
sion of  our  devotions,  for  those  liturgies  are  the  living 
needs  of  men  worthily  expressed.  The  only  way  to  de- 
fend ourselves  against  bad  ways  of  expression  is  to  cultivate 
good  ones  3arei'ully.  We  are  in  danger  of  slovenliness  and 
irreverence  for  want  of  thoughtful  preparation. 

Nor  is  it  mere  decency  that  is  demanded.  Our  best 
thought,  our  most  beautiful  imagination,  should  have  place 
in  the  ordered  and  chastened  utterance.  Above  all,  there 
is  need  for  definiteness  of  ideas,  and  clearness  in  their  ex- 
pression. The  words  must  not  distract  us,  tempting  us 
to  linger  on  their  beauty  or  to  depreciate  the  value  of 
speech  by  exaggeration,  or  to  lose  their  meaning  by  multi- 
plying them.  A  few  words  will  usually  suffice,  but  let  us 
be  sure  that  we  know  what  they  mean.  We  have  all  often 
uttered  meaningless  generalities  like  the  requst  that  God 
would  " bless"  us.  Such  prayers  led  to  nothing,  and  that 
was  not  surprising.  No  little  child  asks  his  father  to  bless 
him.  He  knows  what  he  wants  and  he  asks  for  that.  So 
let  us  first  take  time  to  say  to  our  own  souls  what  we  have 
to  say  to  God,  that  our  prayers  may  be  intelligible  speech, 
and  not  vain  repetition. 

Thus,  while  the  first  impression  of  the  text  is  liturgical, 
the  very  fact  that  clearness  is  demanded  leads  us  away 
from  formality  in  ritual.  The  words  desired  cannot  be 
a  formula  that  excludes  other  expression.  Principal  G. 
A.  Smith,  in  a  very  striking  passage,  contrasts  the  prayer 


58  THINGS  ETERNAL 

of  Hosea  xiv,  with  that  of  Hosea  vi.  The  latter,  for  all  its 
beauty,  is  a  rejected  prayer.  It  is  too  artistic,  too  con- 
sciously laboured,  not  sufficiently  spontaneous.  But  this 
prayer  rings  true,  and  it  is  answered.  It  is  not  the  com- 
position of  a  poet,  but  the  outpouring  of  a  conscience  and 
a  heart. 

That  is  the  one  great  rule  of  guidance — say  what  you 
have  to  say.  Do  not  exaggerate  your  experience,  nor  pose 
before  your  God,  nor  try  to  put  yourself  into  a  religious 
attitude.  Speak  what  words  are  natural  and  true,  and  no 
others.  Say  that  you  are  glad,  and  life  is  good  and  full 
of  love;  or  say,  "Thy  ways  seem  cruel  to  me,  and  the 
pressure  of  Thy  hand  too  hard."  Say  "Oh  Lord,  I  love 
Thee,  yet  I  love  Thee  not";  "Lord,  I  believe,  help  Thou 
mine  unbelief."  Say,  if  you  must,  "Except  I  see  in  His 
hands  the  print  of  the  nails,  I  will  not  believe."  It  may 
be  daring,  it  may  be  very  foolish,  but  if  it  be  the  true 
thing,  say  what  you  have  to  say.  For  God  knows  how 
to  deal  with  honest  speech;  and  words  truly  spoken  will 
take  on  their  real  meaning,  which  the  speaker  may  not 
know,  in  His  understanding. 

Some  of  your  words  will  be  silenced,  doubtless,  for  we 
know  not  what  we  should  pray  for  as  we  ought.  Others 
will  be  "punctuated  and  made  sense  of,"  finding  their 
true  meaning.  Others  will  be  accepted  and  answered  as 
they  stand.  And  new  words  will  be  given  you.  "Christ 
.  .  .  had  the  power  of  not  merely  saying  beautiful  things 
Himself,  but  of  making  other  people  say  beautiful  things 
to  Him."  Every  honest  prayer  teaches  us  to  pray  better 
and  more  wisely.  For  God,  listening  in  compassion  to  the 
broken  voices  of  men,  not  only  tolerates  the  singing,  but 
puts  a  new  song  in  their  mouth. 


THE  POWER  OF  WORDS 

Take  with  you  words." — Hosea  xiv.  2. 

"Words  are  often  supposed  to  be  futile  things,  and  con- 
trasted with  deeds.  It  was  Carlyle  who  identified  the  two. 
1 '  Cast  forth  thy  Act,  thy  Word,  into  the  ever-loving,  ever- 
working  universe";  and  indeed  if  they  be  genuine  expres- 
sions of  truth,  they  are  never  futile,  but  always  charged 
with  vital  energy.  Dr.  Denney  has  said  regarding  St. 
Paul's  exhortation,  "comfort  one  another  with  these 
words''  that  here  the  Apostle  is  balancing  the  greatest 
sorrow  of  life  against  words,  but  then  they  are  words  of 
eternal  life.  Even  the  words  which  a  man  may  speak  are 
often  of  the  highest  value.  So  valuable  are  they  that  a 
man  may  set  up  his  barrier  of  words  between  himself  and 
such  tremendous  forces  as  the  power  of  the  grave  and 
the  terrors  of  conscience.  Such  words  are  not  the  alterna- 
tive to  character  but  the  expression  of  character ;  nay,  they 
are  part  of  what  forms  character  and  fixes  it. 

Three  things  are  manifest  as  to  the  power  of  words  in 
our  religious  experience. 

1.  What  they  imply — a  view  of  intercourse  with  God. — 
Hosea  has  idolatry  in  mind  as  he  writes  this  chapter,  and 
the  superstitious  ritual  of  Israel's  temple-worship.  The 
two  had  this  in  common  that  they  were  founded  on  a 
non-rational  conception  of  worship.  The  worshipper  had 
in  neither  case  any  clear  idea  of  the  meaning  of  the  service 

(59) 


60  m      THINGS  ETERNAL 

lie  performed.  Indeed  it  was  characteristic  of  Semitic 
thought  that  such  ideas  were  not  necessary  in  the  least. 
"What  was  required  was  the  performance  of  certain  acts  and 
the  giving  of  certain  offerings.  "Why  these  were  required, 
who  could  tell?  It  was  simply  part  of  the  accepted  tra- 
dition that  such  things  should  be  done;  and  once  per- 
formed, there  was  the  end  of  the  matter.  Further  ques- 
tioning was  undesirable,  and  perhaps  even  profane.  The 
god  who  could  prescribe  and  accept  such  worship  was, 
so  far  as  his  intercourse  with  men  went,  essentially  irra- 
tional. Either  he  was  incapable  of  rational  intercourse, 
a  mere  mass  of  prejudices  backed  by  supernatural  powers  ; 
or  he  was  unwilling  for  it,  holding  himself  apart  from  his 
creatures  in  a  haughty  superiority  which  demanded  hom- 
age, but  despised  them  too  thoroughly  to  be  further  in- 
terested in  their  affairs. 

But  here  was  a  new  conception  of  God.  He  cared  not 
for  mysteries  but  for  meanings.  He  called  them  back  from 
formalities  to  the  simplicity  and  reality  of  speech.  He 
wanted  not  to  hear  them  repeating  formulae,  but  saying 
what  they  had  to  say.  "When  men  worship  God,  rational 
beings  are  in  communion,  and  worship  is  the  converse  of 
mind  with  mind.  This  is  a  God  who  can  be  spoken  with, 
and  from  whom  men  may  count  on  an  intelligent  and 
patient  hearing.  "With  such  a  God  simplicity  and  sincerity 
are  easy,  for  we  are  sure  of  being  understood.  Therefore 
awe  must  not  rob  us  of  trust  and  of  directness.  For  our 
worship  we  should  indeed  prepare  ourselves  by  selecting 
our  choicest  thoughts;  but  we  should  bring  to  God  also 
our  worst  and  most  deplorable,  nay  even  our  most  casual 
and  unimportant.  For  this  is  not  a  recitation,  it  is  an 
intercourse. 

2.  What  words  reveal — the  truth  about  oneself. — It  is 
for  want  of  bringing  our  secret  life  to  expression  that  we 
are  so  often  self -deceived.    All  idol-worshippers  and  mere 


THE  POWER  OF  WORDS  61 

performers  of  a  religious  office,  come  back  from  the  de- 
votions with  their  illusions  undispelled.  Those  who  would 
leave  their  illusions  behind  them  must  take  with  them 
words.  For  it  is  our  own  words  that  we  have  to  bring,  the 
words  that  have  first  been  "spoken  in  the  inner  man." 

Thus  speech  is  an  ordeal,  and  the  command  of  the  text 
implies    self-examination.      What   words   shall   we   take? 
What  have  we  to  bring?     The  answer  will  reveal  what 
words  are  natural  to  us,  and  so  will  be   test  of  our  growth 
or  declension  in  the  life  of  the  spirit.     When  we  try  to 
state  to  ourselves  what  we  are  and  what  we  desire  most,  we 
shall  find  startling  revelations.     Many  states  of  mind  are 
tolerable  only  until  they  are  plainly  and   definitely  ex- 
pressed.   The  expression  will  reveal  the  wealth  or  poverty 
of  what  we  have  to  say,  of  what  our  hearts  want  to  say, 
and  so  will  reveal  what  has  been  happening  in  us.    Some 
will  find  themselves  utter  strangers  in  the  spiritual  region ; 
others  will  move  in  it  as  men  walking  in  their  home  fields. 
When  you  come  to  words,  you  will  at  least  know  where 
you  are. 

3.  What  they  effect — a  transformation  of  character. — 
For  this  act  of  worship  has  the  power  not  only  of  revealing 
but  of  forming  character.  Words  mark  the  point  of  change 
from  the  unpractical  to  the  practical. 

In  our  inner  life  much  is  necessarily  vague,  consisting  of 
confused  masses  of  feeling,  embryonic  forms  of  thoughts, 
broken  ends  of  ideas  hanging  loose.  Some  of  these  must, 
of  course,  be  left  vague,  for  it  will  be  impossible  to  find 
language  to  express  them.  Yet  some  are  waiting  for  ex- 
pression to  render  them  immediately  effective.  To  say  a 
thing  which  we  have  hitherto  only  thought  or  half -thought, 
is  to  give  it  the  force  of  a  part  of  our  active  life,  to  put  it 
in  a  position  to  tell  definitely  upon  conduct.  Literary 
critics  are  familiar  with  the  reaction  of  style  upon  thought, 
and  no  writer  who  wishes  to  produce  results  can  afford  to 


(j2  THINGS  ETERNAL 

neglect  his  style.  Similarly  we  should  all  regard  as  an 
important  and  momentous  act  the  expression  in  language 
of  our  thoughts.  If  the  words  we  find  for  that  expression 
are  exact — choice  words,  chosen  not  for  their  eloquence  but 
for  their  clearness  and  accuracy — we  may  look  for  results 
in  character  and  conduct.  When  the  images  of  the  imagin- 
ation are  focused,  and  our  estimate  of  self,  our  sense  of 
sin,  and  our  feeling  of  need  are  clearly  perceived,  action  is 
sure  to  follow.  There  is  more  in  the  idea  of  "making 
phrases  like  swords"  than  a  fine  figure  of  speech.  In  literal 
truth  "Bright  is  the  ring  of  words,"  and  a  spirit  that  has 
found  its  true  utterance  will  be  irresistibly  urged  forward 
towards  conduct.  The  prodigal  in  the  story  had  spent 
many  days  and  nights  in  general  ideas  of  repentance, 
desire,  and  intention  that  came  to  nothing.  At  last  he 
found  the  words  "I  will  arise  and  go,"  and  the  words 
brought  immediate  action — he  arose  and  went. 

Thus  religious  utterance  is  one  of  the  great  forces  that 
lead  to  right  action.  It  is  in  the  dreamy  brooding  silence, 
when  we  know  not  what  we  do,  that  we  idle  and  sin. 
When  we  begin  to  stir  our  minds,  to  think  clear-edged 
thoughts  and  pass  definite  judgments  of  right  and  wrong 
and  to  pronounce  these  judgments  in  speech,  our  will 
leaps  forward  at  the  sound  of  the  word,  and  makes  fo> 
righteousness. 


EAST  AND  WEST 

(Fourth  Sunday  in  Lent) 

"As  far  as  the  east  is  from  west,  so  far  hath  He  removed  our 
transgressions  from  us." — Psalm  ciii.  12. 

This  Psalm  is  one  of  exceptional  exaltation.  It  combines 
the  ideas  of  greatness  and  splendour  so  as  to  give  a  sense 
of  magnificence  all  through,  and  it  blends  with  this  an 
exquisite  and  delicate  tenderness.  It  is  natural  that  such 
a  Psalm  should  have  the  question  of  sin  in  the  heart  of  it. 
Until  that  question  has  been  faced  and  answered,  neither 
the  magnificence  nor  the  tenderness  of  God  can  be  clear. 
Sin  is  the  intrusion  of  sordidness  upon  life,  the  stain  upon 
the  royal  garment  of  God.  It  is  the  harsh  voice  of  ill-will 
and  bitterness  breaking  through  the  sweet  music  of  love 
in  homes  and  hearts. 

Every  one  who  knows  himself  or  who  knows  life  at  all 
has  to  reckon  with  the  fact  of  sin.  In  quiet  times,  when 
all  is  sleeping,  it  may  slumber;  but  whenever  any  part 
of  human  nature  wakens  to  intense  consciousness,  it  wakens. 
In  the  past  it  lies,  a  dead  weight  of  fact  beyond  our  reach. 
For  the  future  it  is  "only  a  question  of  time;  either  you 
will  overcome  sin  or  sin  will  overcome  you.''  Pride  may 
separate  a  man  from  sin,  but  his  mood  will  change  and  he 
will  sacrifice  pride  to  indulgence.  Time  and  forgetfulness 
may  seem  to  leave  it  on  the  farther  side  of  a  great  gulf  fixed 
between  it  and  our  present  life.  But  sin  can  overleap  that 
distance,  and  in  a  moment  be  at  our  conscience  and  our 

(63) 


64  THINGS  ETERNAL 

heart  across  a  lifetime  of  intervening  years.  One  stroke 
of  memiry,  one  siren-note  of  temptation  wakening,  long- 
forgotten  echoes  of  old  days,  and  the  gulf  is  crossed,  and 
all  to  reckon  with  again. 

But  when  God  enters  amid  the  tumult  of  fear  and  hope, 
of  desire  and  renunciation,  all  is  changed.  For  the  past 
He  brings  forgiveness,  the  mightiest  proof  of  love.  For  the 
future,  "God  has  seen  the  saint  in  the  sinner,"  and  what 
He  has  seen,  the  world  will  yet  see.  Then  comes  the  su- 
preme moment  in  a  man's  experience,  the  sudden  flight 
of  sin  beyond  the  farthest  horizon.  "A  Greek  poet  im- 
plies," says  Lytton,  "that  the  height  of  bliss  is  the  sudden 
relief  from  pain;  there  is  a  nobler  bliss  still,  the  rapture 
of  the  conscience  at  the  sudden  release  from  a  guilty 
thought."  , 

We  are  not  accustomed  to  so  complete  a  dealing,  and  the 
Bible  seems  almost  to  exhaust  language  in  expressing  it. 
We  are  so  accustomed  to  tinkering  with  sin,  to  half -repent- 
ances and  compromise  and  recurrence,  that  few  of  our 
moral  battles  are  fought  out  to  a  finish  and  the  field  cleared 
from  the  outposts  of  the  enemy.  So  the  colours  are  glaring 
— "crimson  and  scarlet,"  "white  as  snow."  God  is  seen 
"coming  over  the  mountains  of  our  transgressions,"  and 
casting  them  "into  the  depths  of  the  sea."  And  in  this 
passage  East  and  West  stands  for  a  corresponding  sense  of 
extreme  distance  that  is  meant  to  tax  the  imagination.  The 
imaginative  power  and  stretch  of  the  appeal  are  seen  along 
two  lines. 

1.  Geographical. — Geographically,  East  and  West  were 
the  extreme  points  of  known  distance.  It  was  in  the 
temperate  zone  of  the  northern  hemisphere  that  history 
began  and  civilization  spread.  Accordingly  the  stretch  of 
ancient  geography  was  wider  between  East  and  West  than 
between  North  and  South,  and  the  ancient  maps  of  the 
world  were  oblong.    As  thought  travelled  Westward  it  saw 


EAST  AND  WEST  65 

the  dim  coasts  and  islands  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  per- 
haps the  mountain  of  Teneriffe  in  the  farthest  distance. 
As  it  travelled  Eastward,  it  passed  through  the  ring  of 
neighbouring  nations  across  the  Jordan;  saw  the  wander- 
ing encampments  of  desert  tribes ;  then  Mesopotamia,  with 
Nineveh  and  Babylon  guarding  its  rivers;  then  the  moun- 
tains of  Persia,  and  the  dream-like  lands  of  India  and 
China  beyond.  At  the  utmost  limits,  mountain-pillars 
upheld  the  world,  or  the  edge  of  its  oval  disc  fell  sheer 
into  the  waters  of  the  nether  deep  upon  which  it  floated. 

One  can  realize  the  wonder  and  relief  of  such  a  man  as 
this  writer,  as  his  conscience  follows  his  imagination  across 
the  whole  enormous  breadth  of  the  world.  There,  where 
the  mountains  of  the  dawn  or  sunset  hardly  break  the 
skyline  with  their  faint  and  shadowy  ranges — there,  over 
the  edges  of  the  flat  earth  where  all  things  end — there,  and 
no  nearer,  are  his  sins.  From  such  an  one  sin,  and  its 
wages  of  death,  are  indeed  very  far  away. 

Geographically,  science  seems  to  have  changed  all  that. 
For  a  long  time  travel  and  exploration  increased  year  by 
year  the  distance  between  East  and  West,  flinging  out  the 
horizon  line  farther  in  each  direction.  Yet  in  doing  so 
they  actually  brought  them  together  by  their  discovery 
that  the  earth  is  round,  so  that  a  man  fleeing  across  the 
world  to  escape  his  sin  must  at  last  run  into  its  arms. 
And  that  is  a  curious  kind  of  allegory  of  what  our 
modern  thought  has  done  with  the  sense  of  sin.  Appar- 
ently it  has  removed  it.  It  has  drawn  away  men 's  attention 
to  other  interests,  and  it  has  relaxed  the  ancient  tension 
of  conscience.  Yet,  in  very  truth,  as  men  escape  from  sin 
under  the  guidance  of  scientific  theory,  they  rush  unawares 
into  the  arms  of  their  sins  again. 

Natural  science  has  revealed  the  connexion  between 
the  physical  and  the  moral  natures.  Its  doctrines  of 
evolution  and  heredity  tend  to  a  view  of  sin  as  natural 


66  THINGS  ETERNAL 

tendency,  defective  or  excessive  vitality,  a  hereditary  taint 
of  blood.  While  at  first  sight  these  explanations  seem  to 
put  sin  away  from  conscience,  yet  they  bring  it  infinitely 
nearer  too.  Instead  of  being  a  casual  or  isolated  product 
of  mere  independent  acts  of  will,  they  pronounce  it  native, 
and  part  of  the  necessary  system  of  things.  With  all  its 
ghastly  consequences  to  the  sinner  and  to  others  about  him, 
it  has  become  fixed  in  the  iron  chain  of  cause  and  effect, 
and  it  seems  idle  to  talk  of  repentance  or  of  change  where 
sin  begets  sin  and  doom  leads  on  to  further  doom.  Nay 
further,  some  of  the  bolder  spirits,  starting  from  the 
ancient  aphorism  that  every  vice  is  but  the  exaggeration 
of  a  virtue,  tell  us  that  all  human  passions  and  crimes  are 
natural,  though  they  are  more  or  less  in  conflict  with  the 
demands  of  the  social  system  under  which  for  the  present 
we  happen  to  live.  So,  as  in  Thorny  croft 's  famous  "  Me- 
dea, ' '  the  snake  folds  the  garments  to  the  limbs,  making  the 
form  of  the  woman  more  beautiful,  decadent  thought  in- 
sists upon  a  human  beauty  in  vice  as  an  offset  to  the  old- 
fashioned  beauty  of  holiness.  Sin  has  come  home  to  the 
very  heart  and  flesh  of  man,  a  thousandfold  nearer  than 
ever.  And  the  native  love  of  sin  welcomes  the  approach, 
till  men  justify  their  sins  like  old  friends  and  are  loyal  to 
them  as  to  their  ancestry. 

What  has  God  to  say  to  all  this  1  Exactly  the  same  old 
words,  "As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west."  Whatever 
truth  or  error  may  lie  in  these  accounts  of  the  origin  of 
sin,  our  faith  knows  only  one  unchanging  fact — the  living 
God.  Our  conscience  has  to  deal  not  with  theory,  but  with 
one  great  will  and  love.  Against  Him,  Him  only,  have  we 
sinned.  Here  and  now,  whatever  be  the  story  of  life  behind 
us,  whatever  the  ultimate  scientific  definition  of  sin,  we 
have  to  met  the  eyes  of  God  as  Christ  reveals  Him.  By  His 
command,  by  His  forgiveness,  by  His  redemption,  He  tears 
Hm  away  from  His  children  and  holds  it  apart  from  them 


EAST  AND  WEST  67 

now  as  of  old.  When  God  has  intervened,  we  repudiate  our 
lower  nature,  and  lay  hold  on  our  nobler  manhood.  Thus, 
in  the  Cross  of  Christ,  we  see  still  that  great  act  of  God, 
that  is  ever  repeated  when  a  penitent  child  turns  to  his 
'Father.  It  is  the  act  of  justification.  Sin  has  not  been 
slurred  over,  nor  forgotten,  nor  suffered  merely  to  drift 
away.  "As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west,  so  far  hath^ 
he  removed  our  transgressions  from  us. 

2.  Racial. — East  and  West  are  not  mere  points  in  the 
compass;  they  stand  for  peopled  lands,  and  even  in  very 
ancient  times  their  racial  distinctions  were  recognized. 
Israel  had  already  touched  the  outposts  of  Greece,  and  had 
heard  the  young  power  of  Eome — not  indeed  in  any  close 
contact,  but  yet  closely  enough  to  perceive  the  contrast 
between  Europe  and  Asia,  between  Aryan  and  Semite. 
Since  then  all  history  has  borne  witness  to  the  depth  of 
that  cleavage. 

Oh,  East  is  East,  and  West  is  West,  and  never  the  twain  shall 

meet, 
Till  Earth  and  Sky  stand  presently  at  God's  great  Judgment 

Seat. 

The  two  represent  different  types  of  humanity.  The  East 
is  dreaming,  the  West  running  to  and  fro.  The  East 
values  a  thought  for  its  beauty  and  its  mystery,  the  West 
for  its  practical  value.  The  East  fears  immortality,  and 
and  longs  for  the  death  of  desire,  the  West  rebels  against 
death  and  seeks  for  life  more  abundant.  The  East  lies  back 
in  fatalism,  the  West  stands  erect  in  strength  of  human  will. 
Both  East  and  West  have  sinned,  and  know  it,  and  honour 
those  who  live  a  life  devoid  of  sin.  But  the  standards  of 
moral  judgment  differ,  and  the  ethical  tastes  are  far  apart. 
The  views  of  sex,  of  property,  of  the  value  of  life,  of  the 
rights  of  the  individual,  of  the  character  of  God,  are  wide 
as  the  world  asunder.  An  Eastern  saint  might  be  a  Western 
criminal,  and  a  Western  hero  an  Eastern  madman. 


68  THINGS  ETERNAL 

All  this  lends  a  richer  significance  to  the  text.  We  need 
to  be  separated  from  our  sins  not  merely  by  distance  but  by 
a  change  of  standard  and  desire.  When  God  enters,  and 
a  man  deals  with  Him  regarding  sin,  racial  differences  of 
moral  standard  and  constitutional  taste  disappear.  Jesus 
Christ,  standing  on  that  Syrian  soil  which  has  been  the 
historic  meeting  ground  of  East  and  West,  changes  the 
views  of  both,  and  creates  a  higher  patriotism  strong  as 
the  lower  and  far  more  true.  Then  men  of  all  races, 
learning  the  will  of  God  and  His  love,  take  these  for  their 
native  country,  the  homeland  of  their  spirit,  and  sin 
becomes    alien   and   foreign   to   them. 

What  is  this  but  sanctification,  in  which  sin  is  re- 
moved not  merely  by  the  forgiving  act  of  God,  but 
by  the  change  of  man's  desire  which  is  the  work  of 
His  Spirit?  No  longer  regarded  as  merely  dangerous  or 
foolish  or  wicked,  it  comes  to  be  literally  hateful — uncon- 
genial and  utterly  alien  to  his  desires  and  tastes. 

Such  is  the  twofold  grace  of  God  to  man,  discovered  in 
the  ancient  days,  but  operative  through  all  the  changes  of 
the  centuries.  "Look  how  wide  also  the  East  is  from  the 
West;  so  far  hath  He  set  our  sins  from  us." 


CHRIST    AMONG    THE 
TRANSGRESSORS 

(Fifth  Sunday  in  Lent) 

"He  was  numbered  with  the  transgressors." — Isaiah  liii.  12; 

Luke  xxii.  37. 

This  quotation  by  Jesus  in  the  upper  room  marks  His 
sense  of  the  change  which  the  reversal  of  His  own  fortunes4 
must  work  for  the  disciples.  When  their  master  was  the 
popular  prophet  of  Galilee,  they  had  everywhere  found 
themselves  welcome  and  honoured  guests.  Now  that  He 
was  hunted  as  a  criminal,  they  would  find  themselves  sus- 
pects, regarded  as  dangerous  to  society.  Thus  ''numbered 
among  the  transgressors"  gives  us  at  the  outset  a  wonder- 
ful glimpse  into  that  great  heart  which,  in  the  hour  of  its 
supreme  self-sacrifice,  yet  had  leisure  to  feel  His  own  shame 
for  their  sakes. 

To,  us,  as  we  look  back  through  so  long  a  stretch  of  time 
to  those  days,  the  words  are  the  statement  of  a  most  obvious! 
fact.     Whatever  else  may  be  true  or  untrue  about  Jesus, 
It    is    certainly   true    that    he    was    numbered    with    the* 
transgressors.    In  what  biography  of  the  same  length  shall; 
we  find  so  many  accusations  ?    He  was  accused  of  Sabbath-] 
breaking,    drunkenness,    gluttony,    blasphemy;    rebellion; 
against  the  Komans,  desecration  of  the  temple,  subversion' 
of  the  Jewish  law.     He  was  called  a  fraudulent  agent  of 
the  devil,  a  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners,  an  enemy  of 
his  country  and  of  the  human  race.     Barabbas  was  ac- 
counted innocent  in  comparison  with  Him,  and  He  was 
crucified  between  two  thieves. 

(69) 


70  THINGS  ETERNAL 

So  it  comes  to  pass  that  age  after  age,  looking  back,  sees 
Jesus  embedded  in  the  sin  of  the  world.  The  Jews  have 
so  far  had  their  way,  and  have  fixed  upon  Him  ''the  climax 
of  reproach."  The  believing  world  has  seen  in  Him  not 
merely  the  exhibition  of  God's  love  and  pity  for  those 
stricken  by  sin,  but  His  identification  of  Himself  with 
the  sin  that  had  stricken  them.  "Christ  was  not  merely 
made  man,  He  was  made  sin  for  us. ' ' 

We  have,  indeed,  little  understanding  of  that  great  and 
dark  saying.  It  opens  a  vista  into  the  nethermost  mystery 
of  iniquity,  the  fathomless  tragedy  and  reserve  of  darkness. 
Yet,  practically,  we  may  understand  it  well.  Where  is 
Christ  today?  It  is  asked  by  unbelievers,  puzzled  with 
intellectual  difficulties;  by  believers,  who  have  lost  their 
first  love.  Where  is  He?  Why,  among  the  transgressors. 
You  have  cried,  ' '  Oh  that  I  knew  where  I  might  find  Him, ' ' 
and  have  sought  for  Him  among  good  resolutions,  respecta- 
bilities, endeavours  after  a  Christian  life.  Certainly  He 
is  there,  but  it  is  not  always  easy  to  find  Him  there.  There 
is  one  place  where  you  are  sure  of  finding  Christ.  Take 
conscience  for  your  guide  and  go  down  among  your  sins. 
Seek  for  Him  among  the  transgressors.  That  Is  near  home 
for  us;  it  is  where  we  all  live.  We  have  looked  for  Him 
away  from  home,  among  dreams  and  ideals  and  so  forth. 
We  have  been  claiming  our  inheritance  among  the  saints  in 
light,  yet  living  all  the  time  among  the  transgressors  in 
darkness.  There,  in  the  world  that  conscience  knows,  we 
may  find  Him. 

But  why  ?  On  a  winter  night,  walking  under  a  scudding 
cloudrack  through  which  the  full  moon  lit  the  white  build- 
ings of  a  northern  city,  I  first  heard  that  question.  An  old 
man  was  with  me — a  man  of  singular  clearness  of  intellect, 
originality  of  imagination,  and  beauty  of  character.  He 
told  me  how  his  life  had  been  arrested  and  wholly  changed 
by  that  great  question,  Why  was  Jesus  Christ  numbered 
with  the  transgressors?     He  had  not  rested  till  he  found 


CHRIST  AMONG  THE  TRANSGRESSORS      71 

an  answer,  and  here,  in  its  three  main  propositions,  was  the 
answer  he  found. 

1.  To  Fulfil  the  Law  of  God.— There  is  no  possibility 
of  avoiding  the  thought  of  law  in  this  text.  The  word 
"transgressors"  implies  it,  and  is  meaningless  without  it. 
Christ's  constant  aim  was  to  fulfil  the  law,  and  his  repudi- 
ation of  the  dead  letter  only  left  the  spiritual  law  more 
binding  than  before. 

To-day  we  shrink  from  stating  Christianity  in  the 
formally  forensic  terms  which  have  sometimes  expressed  it. 
The  abstract  conceptions  of  justice  set  over  against  mercy 
seem  unreal  and  incongruous.  We  fall  back  on  the  father- 
hood of  God,  and  think  all  our  thoughts  in  the  light  of  that. 
Indeed  the  transition  from  legal  to  fatherly  thoughts  of 
God  is  the  characteristic  note  of  modern  theology.  Yet  in 
this  transition  there  is  no  escape  from  law.  The  law  of 
fatherhood  shows  sin  not  as  an  insult  to  God's  authority 
but  as  a  wound  to  His  Heart ;  and  so  our  sins  are  brought 
rather  into  the  light  of  His  countenance  than  before  His 
judgment  bar.  Law  is  thus,  as  it  were,  absorbed  into  the 
very  nature  and  being  of  God.  It  is  no  longer  regarded 
as  an  external  thing,  either  constructed  or  submitted  to 
by  Him.    The  law  of  God  is  just  God  Himself,  the  Father. 

How,  then,  will  God  deal  with  transgression  ?  Obviously 
as  a  father  he  cannot  leave  it  alone.  No  father  dare  neglect 
the  sin  of  his  child.  Anything  like  easy  good  nature  is 
impossible  here,  for  it  would  be  criminal.  When  a  child 
has  wounded  his  father's  moral  nature,  forgiveness  ages  a 
man  and  draws  his  heart 's  blood  from  him.  So,  by  the  law 
of  fatherhood,  God  must  deal  with  the  sin  of  man.  It  can 
never  be  a  light  thing. 

It  is  by  no  breath, 
Turn  of  eye,  wave  of  hand,  that  salvation  joins  issue  with  death. 

It  was  in  this  dreadful  sense  that  Isaiah  had  already 
conceived  the  agony  of  God,  and  that  bold  conception  had 


72  THINGS  ETERNAL 

arisen  from  human  experience.  There  were  many  sin- 
bearers  in  Israel,  feeling  the  weight  and  horror  of  other 
men's  transgression.  There  were  men  who  knew  what  it 
was  "to  stoop,  and  take  upon  your  heart  as  your  business 
and  burden,  man 's  suffering  and  sin  .  .  .  to  seek  to  lift  the 
deadness  of  men,  to  take  their  guilt  upon  your  heart,  to 
attempt  to  rouse  them  to  it,  to  attempt  to  deliver  them 
from  it."  It  is  the  story  of  all  philanthropy.  All  purity, 
freedom,  truth,  good  conscience,  peace,  have  been  bought 
with  the  blood  of  sin-bearing  men  who  have  loved  their 
fellows  even  unto  death.  The  law  of  fatherhood  extends 
beyond  that  one  relation,  and  renders  vicarious  sacrifices 
universal  in  the  higher  ranks  of  existence. 

It  is  fatuous  to  ask  whether  this  is  a  just  law.  It  is  far 
more  than  just,  it  is  divine.  And  all  the  sin-bearers  of  the 
earth  are  but  dim  shadows  of  the  crucified  Christ,  in 
whom  we  see  the  sin  of  the  children  smiting  full  upon  the 
Father's  heart.  Calvary  offers  the  supreme  example  of 
God's  faithfulness  to  His  fatherhood,  and  reveals  how  all 
transgression  affects  the  Father. 

2.     To  Get  in  Among  Them. — The  world  was  full  of 

transgressors,  and  yet  each  one  of  them  was  lonelier  than 

if  there  were  only  himself  in  it.     The  loneliness  of  sin  is 

the  sorest  and  most  oppressive  of  all  forms  of  that  strange 

but  well-known  phenomenon,  the  loneliness  of  the  crowd. 

When  conscience  shuts  the  door  upon  a  soul,  the  thronging 

faces  of  its  fellows  are  but  an  unreal  show.    In  the  crowded 

street,  in  the  busy  market,  in  the  companionship  of  the 

home,  the  sinful  soul  is  still  alone.    Jesus  knew  that  ghastly 

solitude  in  which  the  spirits  of  the  transgressors  dwelt 

isolated  and  cut  off  from  their  fellows.    He  knew  how  they 

needed  Him,  and  He  went  to  them.    Free  to  go  where  He 

pleased,  He  habitually  went  straight  to  the  outcasts,  and 

finally  to  the  cross  between  two  malefactors,  just  that  He 

might  get  among  them. 

But  how  awful  an  experience  this  was,  other  lives  than 


CHRIST  AMONG  THE  TRANSGRESSORS      73 

His  can  but  faintly  indicate.  A  man  who  finds  himself 
for  the  first  time  in  prison  knows  it  as  he  looks  round 
upon  his  companions  and  realizes  that  he  is  now  one 
of  these.  The  terrible  conscience  of  childhood  knows  it, 
when  the  first  conscious  battle  against  temptation  is  lost, 
and  the  child  feels  himself  for  the  first  time  a  member  of 
that  company  of  dark  characters,  the  transgressors.  He, 
not  content  with  showing  compassion  from  a  distance  to- 
ward the  sinful,  went  where  they  were,  descending  into 
the  hell  of  conscience.  He  looked  up  at  life  from  the  bottom 
of  the  pit  where  they  lay,  and  each  transgressor  knew  that 
he  was  understood.  And  that  marvellous  companionship 
endures.  When  conscience  has  been  making  us  feel  bitterly 
that  we  are  among  the  transgressors,  He  is  at  our  side  in 
that  dismal  company.  He  is  with  us  in  the  accursed  sub- 
tlety of  temptation,  in  the  shame  of  sin,  in  the  sharp  ache 
of  conscience,  in  the  fear  of  consequences,  in  the  doom  of 
the  irrevocable  past.  Standing  amid  the  wreckage  of  the 
years,  in  "the  woeful  loss  and  waste  of  the  blessings  of 
holiness,"  we  are  not  alone,  for  He  is  there  also. 

3.  To  Reduce  their  Number. — As  we  read  the  Inferno 
of  Dante,  the  feeling  that  grows  more  and  more  overwhelm- 
ing is  the  sense  of  helplessness.  He  talks  with  the  tortured 
spirits  and  hears  what  they  have  to  tell,  he  scorns  the 
meaner  and  weeps  with  the  nobler  of  them,  but  he  emerges 
from  the  nether  world  alone.  He  saves  himself :  others  he 
cannot  save,  and  they  remain  transgressors  still. 

But  the  crowd  which  Christ  has  entered  is  a  diminishing 
crowd,  its  numbers  lessening  day  by  day.  The  Cross  of 
Christ  is  "finishing  transgression  and  making  an  end  of 
sin."  He  shares  with  the  transgressors  their  temptation, 
sin,  shame,  dread,  repentance ;  one  thing  He  does  not  share 
— their  helplessness.  Here,  among  those  spirits  in  prison, 
is  universal  helplessness.  They  rebel  against  their  evil 
ways,  they  are  ashamed  and  disgusted  with  themselves, 


74  THINGS  ETERNAL 

they  long  in  vain  after  goodness,  but  they  remain  trans- 
gressors and  they  will  transgress  again.  Christ  stands 
among  them,  alone  only  in  this,  that  He  is  stronger  than 
transgression.  Even  at  the  deepest  point  of  his  sin-bearing 
there  was  in  him  the  tremendous  certainty  that  he  was 
bearing  sin  away.  Among  the  helpless  here  is  the  mighty 
Helper,  come  among  them  not  to  sympathize  only  but  to 
set  free. 

The  prophet  sounds  his  grandest  note  of  victory  when 
he  says,  "He  has  His  portion  with  the  great,  He  divides 
the  spoil  with  the  strong."  "Who,  then,  are  the  great  and 
strong  in  this  world?  Assuredly  its  sin-bearers.  Those 
are  not  the  really  great  ones  who  have  risen  by  the  fall  of 
others,  or  made  a  desolation  and  called  it  peace;  but  those 
who  have  gone  deepest  into  the  wrongs  and  the  vices  of  the 
world,  and  cleansed  it  from  their  stain.  The  heroes  are  the 
liberators,  who  have  set  the  world  free,  and  taught  it  to 
hope.  With  them  Christ  divides  the  spoil.  Nay,  rather 
He  is  the  liberator,  and  the  best  of  the  others  but  catch  a 
few  crumbs  from  His  table.  The  victory  of  the  Cross  lies 
in  the  men  and  women  whom  it  has  set  free  from  sin,  the 
reduced  numbers  of  the  transgressors.  Every  one  who  is 
less  a  transgressor  than  before  swells  that  victory  here  upon 
the  earth ;  and  in  heaven  it  is  made  complete  by  those  who, 
once  transgressors,  are  now  numbered  with  the  saints  in 
glory  everlasting. 

Here,  then,  is  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  Good  news! 
He  has  fulfilled  the  law,  the  human  and  divine  law  of 
Fatherhood.  Better  news !  He  understands  the  worst,  and 
stands  side  by  side  with  the  rest  of  us,  entangled  in  the 
dark  web  of  sin  and  conscience.  Best  news  of  all !  He  is  a 
match  for  our  sin,  mighty  to  save.  We  may  be  free  who 
have  been  bondmen;  we  may  arrive  who  have  sighed  in 
vain  for  any  moral  progress.  The  life  we  long  for  lies 
open  to  our  feet,  for  He  was  numbered  with  the  trans- 
gressors. 


THE  VALUE  OF  A  PAGEANT 

{Palm  Sunday) 
The  triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem. — Luke  xix.  28-48. 

This  story  of  a  pageant  breaks  into  the  history  of  the 
passion  with  almost  ludicrous  incongruity.  So  much  has 
this  been  felt,  that  otherwise  trustworthy  commentators 
have  been  tempted  to  allegorize  the  details  of  it,  making  the 
ass  stand  for  the  old  theocracy  and  the  foal  for  the  young 
Church.  But  the  Bible  remains  interesting  and  alive  in 
spite  of  its  interpreters.  The  foal  is  there  simply  as  a  beast 
to  ride  on:  the  ass  is  there,  not  because  it  stood  for  the 
old  theocracy,  but  because  it  was  the  mother  of  the  foal. 
In  itself  the  whole  story  is,  as  it  appears,  trivial.  It  is  a 
great  truth  expressed  in  a  very  little  way. 

There  are  two  notes  of  that  journey  to  Jerusalem — the 
kingdom  of  God  and  the  imminent  cross,  Royalty  and 
Death.  Both  of  these  were  clearly  present  to  the  mind  of 
Jesus,  as  the  two  parts  of  a  deliberate  and  colossal  scheme 
for  the  mastery  of  the  world.  This  sense  of  mastery  is 
everywhere  apparent.  The  tone  of  Jesus '  speech  is  changed 
from  request  to  command,  from  avoidance  of  enemies  to 
open  challenge;  and  every  word  and  action  indicates  a 
complete  mastery  of  the  situation.  But  the  striking  thing 
is  that  He  should  have  changed  not  only  His  tone,  but  His 
outward  policy  also.  He  had  always  been  particularly 
averse  to  the  spectacular,  and  on  more  than  one  occasion 

(75) 


76  THINGS  ETERNAL 

had  refused  and  avoided  pageants.     Why  does  He  now 
consent  to  one? 

Assuredly  it  was  not  because  of  any  change  in  His  own 
view  of  such  shows.  It  has  been  well  remarked  that  "He 
stood  apart  from  His  popularity";  He  never  mistook  it  for 
greatness.  And  if  a  popular  demonstration  of  this  sort 
offended  His  sensibilities  in  the  Galilean  days,  how  much 
more  must  it  have  jarred  upon  Him  now,  when  He  was 
gathering  together  the  forces  of  His  spirit  to  face  the 
supreme  event.  It  was  a  concession  to  human  nature  as 
that  was  displayed  around  Him  then. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  such  a  concession  was  safe.  His 
task  had  been  to  insist  upon  the  Kingdom,  and  yet  to  avoid 
all  attempts  to  make  Him  King.  For  over  two  years  He 
had  managed  the  populace  as  a  skilful  rider  manages  a 
restive  horse,  now  drawing,  and  now  slackening  rein. 
Thus  He  had  kept  a  bloody  revolution  at  arm 's  length.  But 
now  at  least  there  was  no  danger  of  such  a  revolution. 
There  was,  indeed,  no  time  for  it,  for  His  death  was  distant 
but  a  week,  and  He  must  have  known  it. 

And  there  was  a  certain  value  in  such  a  pageant,  however 
distasteful  it  might  be  to  Him.  It  was  certain  to  impress 
the  imagination  of  His  disciples,  who  were  simple  enough 
to  set  much  store  by  such  exhibitions.  It  painted  for  them 
an  impressive  picture,  which  would  afterwards  illuminate 
their  faith  in  the  royalty  of  Jesus ;  and  in  the  same  way  it 
might  conceivably  impress  outsiders,  rendering  them  more 
ready  for  the  subsequent  call  of  the  gospel,  and  inclining 
them  to  accept  it. 

So  then  we  have  this  strange  combination  of  the  great 
with  the  small,  the  eternal  with  the  fleeting.  That  blending 
consciousness  of  royalty  and  death  is  superb  even  from  a 
literary  and  artistic  point  of  view.  From  a  spiritual  point 
of  view  it  is  the  most  majestic  conception  that  ever  entered 
into  the  heart  of  man.     This  unearthly  kingdom,  winning 


THE  VALUE  OF  A  PAGEANT  77 

its  way  through  death  to  eternal  and  redeeming  life,  is 
infinitely  removed  from  the  vulgarities  of  popular  applause, 
and  the  passing  shows  of  festival.  In  it  the  Messiah  is 
seen  leading  men,  by  the  path  of  the  Cross,  to  God  and  to 
their  own  true  destiny.  It  is  an  hour  when  angels  may 
well  have  felt  a  silence  fall  on  them  as  they  watched. 

But  that  solemnity  was  crowded  with  nearer  watchers, 
and  it  was  characteristic  of  Jesus  to  remember  them  and 
to  gratify  their  poorer  needs.  Some  were  impressed  by 
Him  simply  as  a  worker  of  wonders.  Some  were  Galilean 
revolutionaries,  proud  of  their  countryman  and  vaunting 
his  prowess  against  the  gates  of  the  half -paganized  Jerusa- 
lem. The  majority  were  doubtless  peasants  on  a  holiday, 
ready  for  any  excitement,  and  full  of  the  Oriental  delight 
in  processions  and  shouting.  All  that  whimsical  and  motley 
crowd  acknowledged  His  royalty,  yet  none  of  them  took 
it  seriously  enough  to  follow  it  up  to  any  purpose.  They 
were  lighthearted  and  uncomprehending  children,  and 
there  was  no  great  value  in  their  acclamations.  Yet  it  was 
Jesus'  way  to  speak  to  men,  and  to  let  them  speak,  in  their 
own  language,  and  to  accept  homage  according  to  that  a 
man  hath.  This  was  a  childish  way,  but  it  was  royalty  as 
they  understood  it.  So  far  as  it  went  it  was  well  enough, 
though  in  truth  it  did  not  go  far. 

This  surely  speaks  its  words  to  an  age  like  our  own,  in 
which  so  very  many  people  are  playing  at  being  Christians. 
Royalty  and  death  are  still  before  the  world,  in  the  great 
and  eternal  tragedy  of  the  Cross.  But  the  crowd  is  ever 
spectacular  in  heart,  and  Christianity  has  much  that  may 
be  borrowed  for  the  colour  and  shouting  of  the  passing 
show.  Its  fine  thoughts  may  be  used  to  break  the  monotony 
of  colourless  lives.  So  it  is  utilized  in  all  manner  of  cheap 
appeals.  A  political  allusion,  a  much  advertised  religious 
|  picture  or  play,  a  popular  preacher  interesting  the  crowd 
|for  an  hour— in  these  the  multitude  puts  Jesus  Christ  for 


78  THINGS  ETERNAL 

a  moment  in  the  center  of  its  tableau,  the  successor  of  a 
demagogue,  the  predecessor  of  an  artiste. 

There  is  not  necessarily  any  harm  in  such  a  passing 
interest  in  Christ ;  it  may  conceivably  do  good.  He  still 
speaks  to  us  all  in  our  own  language,  and  consents  to  the 
pageant.  Only  do  not  let  any  one  who  swells  that  crowd 
take  himself  too  seriously,  or  imagine  that  his  approval 
and  applause  are  religion.  This  is  only  a  side  issue  at  the 
best.  Royalty  and  death  are  in  the  heart  of  Christ,  and 
we  are  called  upon  to  reckon  with  that  dread  purpose  of 
His,  each  of  us  for  ourselves.  The  show  will  pass  and  be 
forgotten,  but  how  do  we  stand  in  respect  of  mastery  over 
self  and  the  world  and  sin?  What  share  have  we  in  the 
royal  victory  of  the  Cross? 

The  King  was  in  tears  in  that  procession.    As  they  swept 
round  the  corner  of  the  road  on  Olivet,  and  the  fortress-like 
mass  of  the  city  's  buildings  burst  upon  their  view,  He  wept. 
Partly  it  was  the  city  that  moved  Him,  standing  aloof  in 
its  cold,  strong  superiority.     In  the  faces  of  the  priests, 
sunning  themselves  by  the  temple  walls  that  day  and  asking 
haughtily  "Who  is  this?"  He  saw  a  great  lie  confronting 
His  great  truth.     And  He  saw  the  inevitable  end,  when 
that  truth  would  conquer,  and  ruin  and  despair  would  end 
the  lofty  complacency.    Partly,  too,  it  was  just  the  pageant 
itself  that  moved  Him.     The  utter  sarcasm  of  His  mighty 
truth  hailed  him  with  the  shouting  of  little  souls,  filled  His 
heart  with  an  unrestrainable  compassion  for  the  multitude 
— the  shallow  multitude  who  were  needing  a  saviour  and 
yet  were  satisfied  with  a  procession. 

Those  tears  of  the  King  were  the  real  secret  of  His 
royalty.  They  were  shed  for  love  of  men,  and  that  love 
is  the  secret  alike  of  the  kingdom  and  the  Cross.  It  is 
because  He  had  the  heart  to  weep  over  these  things  that 
He  is  the  eternal  King  of  men.  Still  and  for  ever  it  is 
the  love  of  Christ  that  makes  Him  king.     He  is   "the 


THE  VALUE  OF  A  PAGEANT  79 

gentlest  of  the  mighty" — mightiest  of  all  because  of  His 
great  compassion.  He  weeps  over  the  scorners  and  the 
shouters  still — over  those  whose  cold  and  haughty  su- 
periority stands  aloof,  and  over  those  whose  shallow  en- 
thusiasm applauds  Him  for  an  hour.  But  those  who  are 
wise  will  pause  and  consider  this  extraordinary  situation. 
And  His  kingdom  will  be  built  up  to  the  end  of  time  from 
the  ranks  alike  of  enemies  and  wayside  followers  to  whom 
the  tears  of  Jesus  have  revealed  the  royalty  of  the  Cross. 


THE  RISING  OF  CHRIST 

(Easter-Day) 

"They  have  taken  away  my  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they 
have  laid  Him."— St.John  xx.  13. 

A  great  many  problems  have  risen  round  the  stories  of 
Christ's  resurrection.  Between  the  extremes  of  denying 
all  material  elements  and  seeing  in  the  dogma  merely  a 
spiritual  truth,  and  of  accepting  all  the  details  of  the  vary- 
ing narratives  and  attempting  a  reconstruction  which  will 
reconcile  them  all,  there  are  many  possible  dogmatic  posi- 
tions. Fortunately  it  is  not  necessary  to  wait  for  the  truth 
and  inspiration  of  the  Easter  message  until  we  have  settled 
such  matters.  Questions  of  physiology  about  the  body 
have  really  little  to  do  with  it,  and  discussions  about  the) 
angels  nothing  at  all.  Two  things  only  concern  us.  First, 
the  great  assurance  that  Jesus  who  was  dead  is  alive  again 
for  evermore;  and  second,  the  fact  that  that  assurance 
comes  to  the  world  in  connexion  with  some  of  the  most 
tenderly  human  stories  ever  told.  With  regard  to  the 
assurance  itself,  it  was  that  which  seized  upon  Dr.  Dale  in 
so  remarkable  a  manner  while  he  was  writing  an  Easter 
sermon — " Christ  is  alive,"  he  said,  and  kept  repeating  it 
in  a  kind  of  ecstasy  whose  record  is  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting passages  in  his  biography.  Bishop  Andrewes  points 
us  in  the  same  direction  when  he  says:  "Our  Lord  makes 
mention  of  ascending  twice,  of  rising  not  at  all.  And  it 
is  to  teach  us  that  resurrection  is  nothing,  nor  is  any 

(80) 


THE  RISING  OF  CHRIST  81 

account  to  be  made  of  it,  if  ascension  go  not  with  it."  As 
to  the  human  associations  of  that  great  assurance,  none 
of  them  all  touches  so  deep  a  pathos  or  sends  on  so  typical 
an  experience  to  the  future  as  this  woman 's  cry.  ' '  They  ' 
— and  in  the  very  vagueness  there  is  a  bitter  sound,  as  if 
she  were  feeling  men  and  things  in  general  arrayed  against 
her — "they  have  taken  away  my  Lord."  And  all  the  time 
He  was  risen,  and  waiting  to  show  Himself  to  her.  Only, 
when  He  did  show  Himself,  it  was  not  as  she  had  thought 
to  see  Him.  She  was  expecting  a  dead  body  wrapped  with 
sweet  spices  in  fine  linen.  She  found  a  living  friend,  who 
called  her  by  her  name. 

Resurrection  is  the  method  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Not  by  steady  and  unbroken  progress  does  it  advance, 
but  by  death  and  rising  again  in  new  form  from  the  dead. 
So  it  has  been  in  the  history  of  the  Church.  Again  and 
again  the  familiar  forms  in  which  faith  had  apprehended 
Him  die  and  are  lost  to  sight,  only  to  be  superseded  by 
some  new  aspect  of  Him,  at  first  unfamiliar  and  distrusted, 
at  last  recognized  as  Christ  risen  again.  So  it  has  been 
also  in  the  faith  of  individuals.  Having  known  Him  in 
some  particular  fashion,  we  try  to  retain  the  vision  just  as 
it  was.  Like  Haliburton,  like  Peter  before  him,  we  "spake 
ravingly  of  tabernacles. ' '  But  God  is  inexorable,  and  we 
have  to  learn  for  ourselves  "what  this  rising  from  the 
dead  should  mean." 

1.  History. — The  Church  began  in  a  primitive  sim- 
plicity which  was  content  to  tell  the  story  of  the  Gospels. 
And,  told  by  hearts  hot  with  love  to  Jesus,  that  story  con- 
quered the  world.  But  as  the  faith  spread  through  the 
Roman  Empire  and  came  in  contact  with  the  Greek 
thought  of  the  day,  lawless  thinking  and  loose  organization 
demanded  new  forms  both  of  creed  and  of  ecclesiasticism, 
and  the  ancient  Catholic  Church  arose.  Doubtless  there 
were  many  simple  souls  who  felt  themselves  lost  and  be- 


82  THINGS  ETERNAL 

wildered  among  all  those  new  institutions,  and  whose  cry 
was:  "They  have  taken  away  my  Lord,  and  I  know  not 
where  they  have  laid  Him. ' '  Yet  He  was  not  taken  away, 
but  risen,  in  a  new  form  suited  to  the  new  situation. 

But  that  form,  too,  became  obsolete.  The  ritual,  like 
burial  spices,  seemed  to  hide  Him  in  its  formalities  of  wor- 
ship, and  love  died  away.  Then  came  the  reformation, 
sweeping  away  much  of  what  had  once  revealed  the  Lord 
to  the  world,  and  substituting  great  intelligible  truths 
which  woke  the  intellect  as  well  as  the  devotion  of  the 
world.  But  there  were  tender  and  reverent  spirits  to  whom 
the  old  way  had  meant  much,  and  who  like  Luther's  wife 
felt  the  chill  of  the  new,  and  the  old  cry  was  heard  again. 
But  Christ  was  risen,  a  great  Sun  of  Righteousness  thai; 
gladdened  all  the  Western  lands  and  brought  healing  in 
His  wings. 

Yet  again  that  living  truth  hardened  into  dead  dogma, 
and  this  time  there  was  not  even  the  sweetness  of  the 
burial  spices,  but  only  dust  and  ashes.  So  there  arose,  first 
the  successive  evangelistic  revivals  and  then  the  broader 
and  more  human  presentation,  which  has  taken  for  its 
central  thought  the  fatherly  rather  than  the  judicial  aspect 
of  God.  Again  there  were  grave  and  loyal  spirits  who 
felt  the  new  developments  dangerous,  and  who  had  to  learn 
that  Christ  was  not  taken  away  by  the  changes  they  had 
witnessed,  but  only  risen  once  more,  to  live  and  speak  in 
new  times. 

All  these  illustrate  the  same  truth  of  the  method  of 
resurrection.  Phase  after  phase  of  Christian  faith  rises, 
lives,  and  grows  obsolete :  and  always  there  are  some  who 
cry  that  the  Christ  of  the  fathers  has  been  taken. away. 
But  really  it  is  only  a  phase  that  has  been  taken.  That 
phase  is  dead.  It  has  served  its  time  and  has  now  become 
ineffective,  no  longer  influencing  conduct,  stirring  the  heart, 
or  convincing  the  intellect.     Those  historic  disappearances 


THE  RISING  OF  CHRIST  83 

of  Christ  warn  us  against  the  attempt  to  go  back  and  find 
Him  in  any  more  primitive  form  of  faith.  They  teach  us 
to  treat  forms  of  faith  new  to  us  respectfully,  as  if  in  them 
indeed  we  may  find  the  risen  body  of  the  Lord.  Love  at  the 
first  found  this  truth,  and  so  discovered  the  risen  One; 
and  in  times  of  doubt  and  change  love  must  rediscover 
Christ. 

Nor  is  the  comfort  of  the  text  only  for  the  disheartened 
believer.  The  victory  of  science  has  for  many  of  its  own 
votaries  a  disconcerting  aspect.  Like  Arctic  discovery,  men 
press  forward  through  untold  dangers  and  with  unquench- 
able enthusiasm,  only  to  reach  some  point  of  measureless 
dreariness.  Science  has  taken  away  from  them  their 
Lord.  It  is  not  so.  The  facts  remain,  deep  facts  of  human 
need  and  sin  and  sorrow.  The  emphasis  of  these  has  indeed 
been  changed  by  modern  thought,  from  the  individual  to 
the  social,  from  the  dogmatic  to  the  spiritual,  from  abstract 
metaphysic  to  concrete  experience.  The  claim  of  the  new 
phases  is  as  sound  as  that  of  the  old  was.  "  There  is  no 
real  resting-place,"  says  the  late  Dr.  Jowett,  ''but  in  the 
entire  faith  that  all  true  knowledge  is  a  revelation  of  the 
will  of  God. ' '  In  the  new  forms  Christ  is  not  taken  away, 
but  risen  that  He  may  reveal  the  Father  to  a  new  gener- 
ation. 

2.  Individual  Experience. — Here,  too,  Christ  often  dis- 
appears, and  those  who  have  lost  Him  come  to  old  means 
of  grace — doctrines,  sacraments,  devotions — and  find  them 
but  cold  and  empty  cerements.  Doctrinal  causes  may  ex- 
plain the  change.  From  some,  creeds  have  taken  away 
their  Lord,  and  from  others  the  passing  of  creeds  has 
done  this.  From  some  the  rush  of  life  and  the  hurry  of 
business  have  taken  Him,  from  others  the  sorrows  and 
discouragements  of  the  years  have  done  it.  They  used 
to  be  very  sure  of  Him,  but  life  has  become  too  difficult  or 
too  bitter, 


84  THINGS  ETERNAL 

When  tears  are  spent,  and  thou  art  left  alone 
With  ghosts  of  blessings  gone. 

They  know  not  where  He  is  laid. 

Others  have  lost  Him  through  east  and  luxury  and  self- 
indulgence.  You  used  to  be  poorer,  and  Christ  was  more 
to  you  then.  But  those  worldly  advantages  which  you 
strove  so  hard  to  gain,  have  ill  repaid  you.  They  have 
taken  away  your  Lord,  and  with  Him  have  gone  peace,  and 
the  vitality  and  freedom  and  gladness  which  once  you 
knew.  In  such  cases  it  is  not  really  Christ  who  has  been 
taken  away.  The  Lord  is  there,  but  tears  are  in  His  eyes. 
For  the  world  has  taken  away  your  heart  from  Him,  and 
who  knows  where  it  has  laid  it? 

In  any  case,  in  one  way  or  another,  the  world  has  been 
too  much  for  you.  Yet  none  of  all  these  things  have 
taken  away  your  Lord.  He  is  risen,  and  He  waits  to 
meet  you,  when  you  wander  bewildered,  disheartened,  or 
ashamed.  His  appearance  will  not  indeed  be  exactly  what 
it  was  before.  The  search  for  truth,  the  cruelty  of  suffer- 
ing, and  the  shame  of  apostacy — each  works  in  the  soul 
changes  which  require  some  new  aspect  of  the  Christ.  But 
the  wonderful  thing  about  Christ  is  that  He  is  sufficient 
for  life  in  all  its  aspects;  and  that  whatever  be  your 
experience,  and  however  impossible  it  be  now  to  regain 
the  exact  aspect  of  faith  which  once  was  yours,  there  is 
in  Him  all  that  man  can  ever  need.  He  stands  not  where 
you  were  but  beside  you  where  you  are,  and  if  you  will 
but  turn  and  look  you  will  find  that  He  is  risen  and  not 
taken  away. 


A  SONG  OF  THE  MORNING 

'And  he  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  morning,  when  the  sun  riseth, 
even  a  morning  without  clouds." — 2  Samuel  xxiii.  4. 

These  were  the  last  words  of  David,  and  they  tell  us  his 
ideal  of  what  a  King  should  be.  But  the  passage  is  deeply 
religious,  and  its  import  is  far  more  than  a  conception  of 
royalty.  It  is  a  conception  of  human  life  with  the  morning 
light  of  God  shining  upon  it.  Behind  it  there  were  the 
memories  of  certain  mornings,  great  in  the  national  history. 
There  was  that  day  when  ' '  the  sea  returned  to  his  strength 
when  the  morning  appeared, ' '  and  Israel  was  free.  Farther 
back  in  the  past  there  was  that  other  morning  when  the 
sun  rose  on  Jacob  as  he  passed  over  Penuel  after  his  night 
of  wrestling.  It  was  from  such  passages  that  pious  Israel- 
ites drew  their  thoughts  of  God,  and  worshipped  with 
" glorious  morning  face." 

As  Israel  looked  back  upon  such  mornings,  so  she  looked 
forward  to  others  not  less  bright.  Weeping  might  endure 
for  a  night,  joy  would  come  in  the  morning.  The  Lord 
would  help  her  "when  morning  dawneth."  Her  light 
would  break  forth  as  the  morning,  and  her  righteous  ones 
would  triumph  then.  It  is  true  that  some  of  her  doleful 
spirits  have  nothing  more  grateful  to  say  than  "Would 
God  it  were  evening,"  and  there  are  some  to  whom  the 
morning  is  "even  as  the  shadow  of  death."  But  that  is 
only  their  sorrow  or  their  weakness,  or  the  irritation  of  the 
pessimist  who  is  aggrieved  by  any  call  to  rejoice.    Israel's 

(85) 


86  THINGS  ETERNAL 

usual  view  of  the  morning  is  fresh  and  healthy.  It  is  a 
call  to  labour  and  to  wholesome  thoughts.  "In  the  morn- 
ing sow  thy  seed,"  "Man  goeth  forth  unto  his  work  and 
to  his  labour  until  the  evening."  With  the  sunrise  has 
come  safety;  the  wild  beasts  are  gone  to  their  dens;  the 
highways  of  travel  and  of  labour  are  clear,  and  the  world 
is  open  for  man.  Everything  is  alive  and  cool  and  growing. 
The  ground  is  fresh  with  dew,  and  the  young  grass  is 
springing.  Man,  too,  wakeneth  morning  by  morning  fresh 
and  keen. 

This  morning  light  is  on  our  Christian  faith.  We  are  for 
ever  ageing  before  our  time.  As  the  shadows  fall  upon  our 
work,  we  begin  to  feel  that  we  have  had  our  day.  Yet 
when  we  look  for  sunset  and  the  dark,  it  is  a  new  sunrise 
that  is  coming : — 

And  not  by  eastern  windows  only, 

When  daylight  comes,  comes  in  the  light: 

In  front,  the  sun  climbs  slow,  how  slowly, 
But  westward,  look,  the  land  is  bright. 

The  note  of  paganism  is  the  evening  light  through  which 
it  looks  back  to  a  golden  age  far  in  the  past.  The  worship 
of  Buddha  seems  to  dwell  in  "a  land  where  it  is  always 
afternoon."  Christianity  is  essentially  the  religion  of 
the  morning. 

This  involves  many  things,  but  above  all  others  it  is  the 
guarantee  of  health  as  opposed  to  sentimentality  of  all 
kinds.  Religion,  even  the  Christian  religion,  has  been  re- 
garded otherwise.  It  has  been  draped  in  close  curtains  of 
spurious  mystery,  stifled  with  ceremonial,  made  to  appeal 
solely  to  the  senses  and  emotions,  until  it  had  become 
hopelessly  morbid  and  decadent.  To  be  bright  and  keen, 
to  be  natural,  to  be  heartily  and  simply  human,  has  been 
regarded  as  a  lapse  into  irreligious  secularity.  There  has 
bnen  indeed  at  times  such  a  proud  exultation  in  the  mere 


A  SONG  OF  THE  MORNING  87 

world  and  its  godless  life,  that  faith  has  been  driven 
for  shelter  to  the  darkness  of  midnight  assemblies.  But 
though  Lucifer,  son  of  the  morning,  is  fallen,  morning  has 
another  Son  greater  and  more  abiding.  Jesus  Christ  is 
the  bright  and  morning  star.  Ours  is  not  the  faith  of  those 
who  hear  only  the  voices  of  the  night.  Its  believers  are 
men  who  are  singing  in  morning  light,  and  that  light — 
sane,  clear,  and  cool — falls  on  all  things  earthly,  and  reveals 
them  as  they  are. 

The  Christian  view  of  history  illustrates  this.  There  is 
a  dreary  scientific  doctrine  that  the  world  is  growing  aged 
and  decrepit.  It  has  had  its  day,  but  now  its  powers  are 
dying  out,  and  it  "goes  dispiritedly,  glad  to  finish."  Nor 
have  there  been  wanting  some  Christian  believers  to  en- 
dorse the  gloomy  impression.  Such  Christianity  despairs 
of  life  in  the  present,  stands  marking  time  till  the  Judg- 
ment Day  or  the  Second  Coming,  as  if  that  were  all  there 
is  to  do.  But  those  who  have  drunk  more  deeply  of  the 
spirit  of  our  faith,  discover  daily  that  old  things  are  pass- 
ing away  and  all  things  becoming  new.  "We  are  standing 
not  at  the  end  but  at  the  beginning  of  things.  We  go  forth 
into  the  world  daily  remembering  that  it  is  morning.  "We 
ourselves  may  grow  old  without  a  pang,  for  "the  best  is 
yet  to  be, ' '  and  our  children  shall  see  still  better  days  than 
ours.  The  times  may  be  precarious  and  their  problems 
difficult  to  master,  but  the  night  is  past  and  the  day  is 
before  us. 

Equally  true  is  this  assurance  of  our  individual  ex- 
perience. The  Christian  feels  the  stirring  of  a  new  creation 
in  his  soul.  The  coming  of  the  new  life  of  God  is  not 
merely  an  event;  it  is  a  process,  and  we;  are  daily  being 
created.  As  yet  we  are  but  in  the  making.  If  this  con- 
dition— this  sinfulness  and  blindness  and  wavering  faith 
and  changeful  desire — were  the  finished  product  of  man- 
hood, it  would  indeed  be  profoundly  discouraging.     But 


88  THINGS  ETERNAL 

it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be,  though  we  know 
that  we  shall  be  like  Him.  Every  one  who,  in  books  or  in 
real  life,  has  had  much  intercourse  with  aged  saints,  has 
learned  that  the  Christian  need  never  grow  old  at  all.  It 
was  this  that  so  arrests  the  wondering  eyes  of  the  Roman 
in  "Marius  the  Epicurean,"  and  gives  to  that  great  book 
much  of  its  rare  charm  and  clean  fragrance.  If  you  know 
Jesus  Christ,  you  may  trust  life,  and  go  forward  brightly 
to  its  latest  day.  Your  master  has  the  secret  of  perpetual 
youth. 

For  further  detail,  let  us  set  the  Christian  graces  in  this 
morning  light : — 

1.  Faith. — There  was  a  period  in  the  nineteenth  century 
when  faith  was  seen  by  many  of  the  noblest  eyes,  in  an 
evening  light.  Watchers  of  twilight,  or  of  darkness,  the 
cry  echoed  from  poets  to  prose  writers,  "Watchman,  what 
of  the  night  1 ' '  And  the  answers  that  came  back  were  such 
as  this: — 

I  stretch  lame  hands  of  faith,  and  grope, 

And  gather  dust  and  chaff,  and  call 

To  what  I  feel  is  Lord  of  all, 
And  faintly  trust  the  larger  hope. 

But  the  twentieth  century  is  seeing  things  disentangled, 
and  distinguishing  between  essential  and  merely  casual  be- 
liefs. The  morning  light  is  clear  and  plain,  and  certain 
truths  are  visible  in  it.  Faith  is  no  longer  groping  and 
faintly  trusting,  bewildered  among  a  vast  system  of  beliefs. 
Its  certainties  are  fewer,  but  they  are  absolutely  certain. 
The  faith  of  to-day  is  not  dream  but  vision. 

Such  also  is  its  vision  of  good,  with  clearer  if  less  con- 
ventional light  falling  on  moral  questions.  "Morning's 
at  seven,"  as  Pippa  sang.  The  shutters  are  open,  and 
instead  of  the  many-coloured  lanterns  of  tempting  sophis- 
try, moralists  are  seeing  by  daylight  things  as  they  are. 
Such  is  the  vision  of  Christ,    We  do  not  demand  of  men 


A  SONG  OF  THE  MORNING  89 

that  they  shall  hold  so  complete  a  set  of  definitions.  But 
the  progress  of  research  has  made  Him  stand  out  in  clear 
light  among  the  indisputable  and  eternal  facts,  and  that  is 
better  than  any  completeness  of  theory  or  brilliancy  of 
imagination  that  may  turn  out  to  be  a  pageantry  of  dreams. 

2.  Hope. — There  is  a  hope  in  evening  light;  that  hope 
deferred  that  maketh  the  heart  sick.  Such  hope  may  be 
a  genuine  Christian  grace.  The  faintest  light  set  in  the 
future  by  some  promise  of  God  is  precious ;  and  beyond  all, 
there  is  the  "one  far-off,  devine  event  to  which  the  whole 
creation  moves."  Yet  for  us  there  is  a  nearer  hope.  In 
the  morning,  hope  is  immediate,  and  it  concerns  the  facts 
of  a  day  that  has  already  dawned.  Christ  has  not  only 
pointed  us  towards  a  distant  eternity,  that  may  explain 
and  compensate  for  a  hopeless  present.  He  has  not  only 
assured  us  that  things  will  come  right  in  the  end.  He  has 
made  us  feel  that  to-day  life  is  worth  while. 

3.  Love,  in  evening  light,  means  rest,  and  the  sweetness 
of  fireside  converse.  In  morning  light,  love  means  labour. 
As  the  doors  close  behind  them,  the  workmen  do  not  love 
their  homes  less,  but  more,  because  they  are  going  forth 
from  them  to  labour.  So  love  to  God  in  morning  light  is 
a  call  to  service.  Do  not  stay  brooding  in  close-curtained 
thought,  searching  your  soul  for  love  to  God : — 

I  love  and  love  not;  Lord,  it  breaks  my  heart 
To  love  and  not  to  love. 

The  day  has  dawned,  the  workmen  of  the  world  are  abroad. 
Go  forth  and  join  them,  and  express  your  love  in  labour 
for  God's  sake. 

Let  us  set  our  religion  thus  in  the  fresh  and  wholesome 
light  of  morning,  while  the  call  of  life  is  in  our  ears.  The 
evening  will  come  soon  enough,  and  with  it  rest  and  pensive 
sweetness  and  softness  of  feeling.  Meanwhile  the  sun 
is  risen ;  let  us  arise  and  live. 


THE  MORE  EXCELLENT  WAY 

"That  ye  may  approve  things  that  are  excellent." — Phil.  i.  10. 

In  this  very  remarkable  prayer,  St.  Paul  is  guided  by  a 
conception  of  Christianity  as  it  really  is,  and  he  is  express- 
ing successive  aspects  of  the  world  into  which  it  intro- 
duces men.  The  text  describes  one  such  aspect,  and  an 
extremely  important  one,  viz,  the  approvals  of  a  life,  its 
unforced  choices,  instinctive  preferences,  and  habitual  con- 
sents. 

Such  choices  meet  us  as  the  constant  necessity  of  daily 
life.  Frequently  we  would  rather  avoid  the  responsibility 
of  them,  but  we  cannot.  Our  environment  is  infinitely 
various,  with  its  multitude  of  possible  books,  friends, 
plans',  attitudes  of  mind,  thoughts  and  actions.  Among 
these  there  are  great  currents  of  fashion  and  of  influence 
flowing  strongly  in  different  directions,  so  that  we  not  only 
choose  this  or  that  in  detail,  but  must  commit  ourselves 
to  habits  and  to  parties  which  will  bear  us  on,  the  saving 
or  destroying  influences  of  our  career. 

Further,  many  of  the  problems  of  choice  are  extremely 

delicate.    We  have  to  face  not  only  the  crude  question  of 

right  or  wrong,  but  a  set  of  standards  as  much  finer  than 

these  as  a  microscopic  scale  is  finer  than  a  yard  stick. 

1 '  We  have  not  to  distinguish  the  obviously  good  from  bad, 

but  among  good  things,  good  from  best."     This  is  the 

finesse  of  the  game  of  life,  in  which  lies  the  secret  of  all 

true  culture.    There  are  a  thousand  little  points  of  manner, 

(90) 


THE  MORE  EXCELLENT  WAY  91 

speech,  thought,  and  action,  in  which  both  of  two  possible 
courses  are  justifiable,  but  one  is  the  finer  course,  and 
belongs  to  the  things  which  are  excellent.  This  prayer  is 
for  a  type  of  character  founded  upon  the  habitual  choice 
of  such  things. 

Obviously  this  first  of  all  requires  appreciation — to 
know  what  one  desires  and  to  desire  rightly.  If  it  be 
important  to  learn  how  to  say  No,  it  is  still  more  important 
to  learn  how  to  say  Yes,  and  to  say  it  emphatically.  For, 
even  in  so  unsatisfactory  a  world  as  this,  there  are  some 
things  which  are  excellent — things  that  are  "true,  honest, 
just,  pure,  lovely,  and  of  good  report. ' '  There  is  a  certain 
number  of  such  things  round  about  us  all.  Some  people 
are  turning  over  large  heaps  of  them,  to  find  the  unpleasant 
things  below,  but  that  does  not  alter  the  fact.  If  your 
world  of  thought  and  choice  is  ugly  and  second-rate,  that 
is  neither  God's  fault  nor  the  world's.  It  is  your  own 
fault,  who  have  approved  these  things  for  emphasis.  The 
world  is  strewn  with  the  good  gifts  of  God.  ' '  Here  is  God 's 
plenty,"  as  Dryden  says  of  Chaucer;  and  the  opulence 
of  the  world  is  the  heartening  message  of  many  others  who 
have  found  "power  each  side,  perfection  every  turn."  It 
is  a  great  and  wise  thing  to  look  around  us  with  chaste 
desire  and  loving  eye,  and  to  see  and  appreciate  the 
choicest  excellence. 

Yet  appreciation  must  be  balanced  with  criticism,  for 
in  a  world  like  this  there  is  a  very  manifest  limit  to  ap- 
proval, and  criticism,  no  less  than  appreciation,  is  a  dis- 
tinctively Christian  duty.  Marius  the  Epicurean  recog- 
nized in  his  Christian  friend  "some  inward  standard  of 
distinction,  selection,  refusal,  amid  the  various  elements 
of  the  fervid  and  corrupt  life  "  around  them.  Even  in 
literature,  as  Pater  elsewhere  insists,  the  choicest  work 
depends  upon  the  art  of  cutting  off  surplusage;  and  all 
finest  things,  like  the  diamond,  gain  their  beauty  by  sacrifice 


92  THINGS  ETERNAL 

of  precious  dust.  "  Excellence  is  not  common  and  abund- 
ant," says  Matthew  Arnold,  "  whoever  talks  of  excellence 
as  common  and  abundant  is  on  the  way  to  lose  all  right 
standard  of  excellence." 

The  necessity  of  criticism  is  true  even  to  the  length  of 
a  positive  duty  of  hatred.  Fra  Angelico  is  famous  as  the 
man  who  could  not  paint  a  devil,  and  no  one  can  withhold 
the  tribute  of  reverence  for  so  pure  a  spirit.  Yet  if  there 
are  devils  there,  such  a  view  of  life  as  his  can  never  be 
a  true  picture  of  the  world.  Browning's  great  words  are 
eternally  true: — 

Dante,  who  loved  well  because  he  hated, 
Hated  wickedness  that  hinders  loving. 

All  strong  souls  know  what  that  means.  It  is  the  secret  of 
moral  and  spiritual  robustness,  and  it  is  a  principle  which 
Jesus  Christ  illustrated  in  Himself  and  taught  to  His 
disciples. 

Yet,  while  this  is  true,  it  tells  in  favour  of  appreciation 
rather  than  against  it.  Our  part  is  not  to  select  the  evil 
elements  for  emphasis,  nor  is  it  to  simply  accept  the  world 
in  its  breadth,  going  in  good-naturedly  with  everything. 
In  knowledge,  it  is  not  our  part  to  be  mere  ' '  pickers  up  of 
learning's  crumbs,"  who  accumulate  miscellaneous  facts. 
We  must  specialize  if  we  are  to  have  a  message.  In 
character  and  affections,  the  ideal  is  not  that  of  mere  en- 
thusiastic persons,  who  are  friends  of  all  the  world,  with  a 
vulgar  heat  of  indiscriminate  praise.  A  more  austere 
way  of  dealing  with  life  is  expected  of  us.  Christianity  is 
not  all  kindliness  and  fervour.  It  is  severely  discrimi- 
nating judgment  also,  and  thought  founded  on  knowledge. 
There  is  no  real  fear  that  knowledge  will  cool  love:  love 
is  cooled  rather  by  ignorance  and  carelessness. 

Thus  Christian  character  also  involves  selection,  not  only 
of  obvious  right  in  contrast  with  wrong,    but  of  the  finest 


THE  MORE  EXCELLENT  WAY  93 

kind  of  right  and  that  which  is  fittest  for  the  special 
occasion.  To  reject  open  immorality  and  to  accept  all  the 
rest  without  discrimination,  is  respectability,  the  religion 
of  the  Pharisees.  But  every  respectable  Pharisee  proves 
the  truth  of  the  saying  that  "the  good  is  the  enemy  of 
the  best."  There  is  a  scale  of  fineness  among  things  re- 
spectable, and  Christ  insists  that  we  shall  not  be  content 
with  a  second-best,  though  it  be  good.  In  this  way  He 
has  produced  a  special  type  of  man,  more  delicately  sensi- 
tive in  choices  than  the  rest.  Such  men,  whose  spirit 
habitually  dwells  among  the  highest  things,  show  a  rare 
spiritual  culture,  an  exclusiveness,  an  aristocracy  of  spirit, 
which  partly  explains  Christ's  insistence  on  the  narrow 
way  and  the  straight  gate,  and  the  few  that  find  it. 

There  are  certain  great  difficulties  in  the  way  of  those 
who  would  seek  for  this  excellence.  In  lower  regions  of 
thought  and  conduct,  the  law  judges  for  us,  but  here  the 
responsibility  falls  back  upon  ourselves.  And  at  once  we 
have  to  meet  with  those  fashions  in  moral  and  spiritual 
things  whose  standards  for  the  time  being  set  the  type 
and  frame  the  unwritten  laws  which  govern  the  mass  ot 
society.  In  Cromwell's  time  strength  was  the  ideal  of 
England,  in  Dryden's  time  good  nature.  Now  it  is  the 
courtier,  now  the  nun,  who  seems  most  perfectly  to  embody 
human  excellence.  Such  fashions  make  a  very  subtle 
appeal  to  the  shame  and  vanity  of  many,  who  have  not  the 
courage  to  be  counted  peculiar.  To  others  the  temptation 
is  to  be  in  opposition,  the  revolt  changing  with  the  fashion 
as  subserviently  as  the  compliance  changes.  Thus  the  chief 
demand  is  for  moral  and  spiritual  originality;  to  have  a 
mind  of  one's  own,  and  a  conscience  of  one's  own,  which 
will  enable  one  to  discover  and  choose  excellence  for  one- 
self. 

A  deeper  difficulty  in  the  way  of  seekers  after  excellence, 
is  the  fact  that  even  the  best  of  them  are  to  so  lamentable 


94  THINGS  ETERNAL 

an  extent  the  ' '  familiar  friends  of  sin, ' '  that  it  has  become 
interestingly  and  attractive  to  them,  while  goodness  has 
come  to  seem  insipid.  This  is  partly  the  fault  of  the  good. 
It  makes  one  angry  at  times  to  see  how  deadly  dull  good 
people  may  become :  we  feel  that  they  have  no  right  to  be 
so  uninteresting  as  they  sometimes  are.  In  still  greater 
part  this  aversion  from  excellence  is  our  own  fault,  and  is 
the  result  of  deliberate  or  thoughtless  pandering  to  our 
lower  nature.  It  is  so  easy  to  get  into  the  way  of  counting 
upon  badness  for  interest,  and  imitating  our  cheapest 
literature  by  presenting  the  lower  side  of  life  in  lights 
that  quicken  curiosity  rather  than  revulsion.  Thus  we 
have  perverted  our  standards  of  interest,  and  allowed  our 
tastes  to  become  corrupt,  until  we  instinctively  prefer  the 
lower  to  the  higher.  This  holds  along  the  whole  line  of 
moral  and  spiritual  choices,  and  it  has  degraded  men's 
attitude  toward  Jesus  Christ  Himself.  Men  turn  from 
Him,  not  so  much  because  they  are  afraid  of  the  fascination 
of  a  beauty  so  rare,  but  because  they  have  actually  looked 
upon  Him  and  felt  no  fascination. 

In  the  face  of  such  obstacles  we  turn  anxiously  to  inquire 
as  to  the  secret  of  that  right  instinct  which  will  recognize 
excellence  and  choose  it.  The  discouraging  element  in  all 
this  is  that  to  so  large  an  extent  the  reasons  that  lie  behind 
our  choice  seem  to  be  so  largely  out  of  our  own  power. 
"Taste  is  morality,"  says  Ruskin;  and  certainly  that  is 
true  of  the  high  moral  and  spiritual  region.  Sin,  and  all 
preference  of  lower  to  higher  courses,  are  emphatically  in 
bad  taste.  But  then,  taste  is  not  a  matter  of  prescribed 
rules,  which  can  be  enforced  or  made  convincing  to  a  mind 
that  does  not  spontaneously  admit  its  canons.  Just  as  those 
who  know  good  art  from  bad  are  quite  sure  of  their  judg- 
ment, but  cannot  tell  why  they  so  judge,  nor  communicate 
their  judgment  to  others  who  prefer  the  poorer  art ;  so  this 
moral  and  spiritual  taste  is  a  kind  of  high  fastidiousness,  a 


THE  MORE  EXCELLENT  WAY  95 

new  sense,  a  delicate  and  often  incommunicable  faculty  of 
discernment.  Doubtless,  like  the  taste  for  good  art,  it  arises 
from  obscure  sources  in  ancestry,  natural  sensibility,  and 
education.  Thus  it  appears  to  be  a  hopeless  quest  except 
for  the  select  few  who  possess  it;  as  unattainable  as, 
the  shape  of  features  or  the  colour  of  eyes.  King  Arthur 
pronounced  the  quest  of  the  Grail  too  high  for  many  of 
his  knights,  and  plainly  told  them  that  they  were  neither 
Galahads  nor  Parsifals.  So,  for  many  of  us,  the  most 
excellent  things  seem  too  fine.  Our  want  of  spiritual  finger- 
tips and  delicacy  of  instinct,  seems  to  debar  us  from  the 
quest. 

Yet  that  is  not  so  true  as  it  seems.  Instincts  may  be 
acquired  and  tastes  rectified  within  a  lifetime.  These  are 
the  last  result  of  certain  ways  of  dealing  with  life  which 
are  open  to  all.  Those  who  live  worthily  among  plain  and 
ordinary  issues,  who  train  their  minds  to  think  accurately 
and  dispassionately,  who  keep  their  eyes  open  and  gain 
experience  of  the  world,  come  in  the  end  to  a  spontaneous 
and  immediate  discernment  of  the  lower  and  the  higher 
ways. 

Still  more  surely  is  instinct  affected  by  the  moral  dis- 
cipline of  life.  He  who  faithfully  and  always  chooses  the 
course  which  seems  to  him  right,  gains  in  moral  perception, 
and  passes  on  from  cruder  to  finer  discernment.  The  in- 
tinct  for  the  things  that  are  excellent  is  the  last  product 
of  a  life  that  has  been  moulded  consistently  by  right  choices 
in  cases  of  obvious  right  and  wrong. 

But  above  all  there  is  the  power  of  love,  which  Paul  here 
has  included  in  his  prayer  for  the  Philippians.  Love  may 
at  first  sight  seem  a  doubtful  guide.  Is  it  not  passionate, 
blind,  and  rash?  Yet  love  is  after  all  the  only  power  in 
all  the  world  that  is  delicate  enough  to  create  the  instinct 
for  excellence.  That  was  Jesus  Christ's  secret  long  before 
it  was  Paul's.    He  set  love  free  upon  the  earth,  and  the 


9Q  THINGS  ETERNAL 

effects  of  that  new  love  which  was  flooding  human  life 
were  wonderful  indeed  to  the  world,  and  not  less  surpris- 
ing to  those  into  whose  hearts  it  had  entered.  For,  in  the 
secret  alchemy  of  God,  they  found  that  in  their  souls  love 
was  transmuted  into  knowledge.  Loving  much,  and  know- 
ing themselves  greatly  loved,  they  arrived  at  an  accurate 
and  direct  sense  of  the  distinction  between  what  was  finer 
and  what  was  poorer.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  all 
the  more  delicate  judgments  of  the  world  have  arisen  out 
of  Christian  love,  which  leads  all  who  are  faithful  to  it 
towards  the  approval  of  the  things  that  are  excellent. 


STRENGTH  AND  JOY 

"The  joy  of  the  Lord  is  your  strength."— Nehemiah  viii.  10. 

It  was  in  the  days  of  the  return  from  Babylon  that  the 

two  leaders,  Nehemiah  the  soldier  and  Ezra  the  scholar, 

came  upon  the  page  of  history.     The  student  had  been 

waiting  for  a  chance  to  read  the  law,  but  the  time  was  not 

yet  come.    Nehemiah  had  his  rougher  part  to  play  first, 

and  the  wondrous  days  of  " sword  and  trowel"  followed. 

Now,    that   work    done,    the    modest    patriot    yielded    at 

once  to  the  student,  and  the  law  was  read  to  the  people. 

But  the  faces  of  the  multitude  grew  graver.    An  occasional 

sob  was  heard  as  law  solemnly  followed  law,  and  they 

began  to  realize  the  conditions  on  which  they  might  dwell 

within  the  new-built  walls.    Finally,  there  broke  forth  the 

great  cry  of  a  nation  in  tears. 

This  was  disappointing  enough  to  the  two  heroes.    To 

them  the  law  was  familiar,  and  all  their  work  had  been 

done  on  those  high  ideals.    But  the  crowd  was  ignorant, 

and  in  the  reaction  after  their  exciting  labours  they  were 

ready  for  any  discouragement.    But  the  leaders  knew  how 

much  remained  to  be  done,  and  that  strength  was  needed 

now  more  than  ever.     Yet  there  was  only  one  way  of 

strength.    There  could  be  no  escape  from  the  laws  which 

had  discouraged  them.    Through  the  law  the  people  must 

pass  on  to  the  heart  of  God,  and  there  find  joy.    The  people 

were  learning  God's  laws  with  consternation;  the  leaders 

knew  His  character  and  heart.    And  they  knew  that  He 

(97) 


98  THINGS  ETERNAL 

who  had  given  the  sombre  law,  was  joyous  for  evermore 
At  the  heart  of  things,  in  the  depths  of  the  universe, 
there  was  unfailing  gladness. 

There  are  obvious  lessons  here.  Religion,  viewed  from 
a  distance,  is  ever  sombre  and  gloomy.  Faced,  accepted, 
attempted,  it  reveals  daily  delights.  Many  a  man  stands 
shuddering  at  religion,  who  if  he  would  but  boldly  face 
it,  would  lose  all  his  fears  and  weakness.  For  true  strength 
and  true  joy  are  essentially  moral.  It  is  through  law,  and 
not  without  law,  that  any  trustworthy  gladness  must  come. 
Character  is  the  granite  rock  of  life. 

All  this  depends  ultimately  on  the  character  of  God. 
There  could  be  no  possible  joy  for  man  in  the  worship  of 
Moloch.  But  here  man  reaches  the  enthusiasm  of  a  divine 
gladness.  He  has  discovered  the  secret  of  the  Lord,  and 
is  filled  with  the  " inward  glee"  of  those  who  have  pene- 
trated behind  the  sorrow,  the  severity,  and  the  sin  of  the 
world,  and  found  its  God  rejoicing. 

But  the  special  lesson  of  the  text  is  that  of  the  connexion 
between  strength  and  joy.  Life  demands  of  us  all  that 
we  be  strong,  and  our  hearts  respond  in  a  great  longing. 
To  be  able  to  fight  and  to  labour  and  to  wait,  to  be  com- 
petent for  our  tasks — what  heart  does  not  answer  to  the 
delight  in  strength?  Those  whose  strength  is  failing  and 
who  feel  at  once  their  call  to  labour  and  their  weakness  to 
achieve  it,  have  ever  longed  most  passionately  for  strength. 
They  think  enviously  and  yet  with  a  kind  of  glory  of  the 
strength  of  others ;  they  take  the  strongest  for  their  heroes 
and  imitate  them  as  best  they  can.  But  there  are  many 
sorts  of  strength,  and  some  of  them  are  of  little  worth. 

There  is  natural  robustness,  mere  weight  of  muscle,  un- 
impaired health,  and  unbroken  success.  This  had  been 
the  kind  of  strength  which  the  Israelites  had  exercised 
in  their  building.  The  sheer  force  of  the  work  had  carried 
them  on  in  the  excitement  of  the  hour,  and  it  had  been 


STRENGTH  AND  JOY  99 

enough  for  that  labour.  But  now  they  collapsed  when  they 
realized  life's  finer  tasks  and  more  exacting  demands. 
Such  blind  strength  is  coarse-grained,  often  feelingless 
and  inconsiderate,  never  delicate  enough  for  more  than 
the  rougher  tasks. 

Again  there  is  the  passionate  strength  of  sorrow.  Every 
one  knows  the  amazing  feats  which  desperate  men  may 
perform;  and,  when  the  first  outburst  of  such  emotion 
has  passed,  it  is  still  possible  to  be  strong  in  a  dogged, 
hopeless  fashion,  resolute  without  enthusiasm.  Such 
strength  might  easily  have  been  sought  for  by  these  Israel- 
ites, now  that  their  old  strength  was  broken.  These  laws 
were  impossible,  and  there  was  no  use  trying  to  please 
their  God.  Yet,  in  a  kind  of  Puritanic  despair  they  might 
have  gone  bravely  on  to  their  doom,  as  many  a  hopeless 
spirit  has  done  since  then. 

It  was  to  men  standing  among  such  alternatives  that 
the  words  were  spoken.  The  Law-giver  was  also  the  Re- 
joicer,  and  He  would  have  men  to  rejoice  in  His  joy  and 
so  be  strong.  The  very  fact  of  being  glad  would  restore 
heartiness  to  them  and  exhilarate  their  flagging  spirits. 
But  that  is  a  poor  rendering  of  the  text.  If  they  are 
to  hear  the  laws  of  their  God  and  still  be  glad,  it  must 
be  because  underneath  the  stern  mask  of  commandment 
there  is  a  smile  on  the  Law-giver's  face.  They  are  to 
rejoice  with  their  God  while  they  obey  His  laws. 

Such  strength  is  intelligent  and  not  blind.  If  we  have 
seen  the  Creator  rejoicing  in  His  works,  there  is  something 
to  be  glad  about.  Behind  the  joy  lies  not  merely  muscle 
or  emotion,  but  reason  and  right  thought.  As  the  walls 
of  Troy  were  supposed  to  have  risen  to  the  music  of  their 
builders'  singing,  as  all  works  of  art  have  been  defined 
as  the  expression  of  their  maker's  joy;  so  men  who  take 
their  tasks  from  God,  sharing  His  joy  of  creation,  rejoice 
in  them  and  do  them  well. 


100  THINGS  ETERNAL 

Such  strength  is  also  unselfish.  God  is  blessed  because 
He  is  for  ever  blessing.  The  very  meaning  of  the  Cross 
of  Christ  is  that  God 's  unselfishness  is  for  ever  overcoming 
the  sorrow  of  the  world.  It  is  this  generous  joy,  rejoicing 
in  doing  good  to  others,  which  alone  gives  real  strength 
to  character.  In  a  world  like  this,  where  there  is  so 
much  misery,  it  must  sometimes  occur  to  every  happy 
spirit  to  ask  whether  any  man  has  a  right  to  enjoy  himself. 
He  has  such  a  right  only  on  condition  that  his  is  the  gen- 
erous joy  of  the  Lord.  "We  may  dare  to  be  very  happy 
while  doing  our  utmost  to  help  a  brother.' ' 

Further,  this  is  peaceful  strength.  With  God  there  is 
no  spasmodic  effort.  The  heavens  are  calm  above  earth's 
strained  and  anxious  life.  The  strongest  forces  are  ever 
quiet,  and  all  fuss  and  restless  violence  of  effort  are  signs 
of  weakness.  In  God,  by  faith  we  do  enter  into  His  rest, 
and  are  "  strong  in  grave  peace.' '  God's  peace  within  a 
soul  makes  room  for  joy,  and  to  be  glad  thus  quietly  is 
to  be  strong. 

Lastly,  this  strength  is  victorious;  it  is  strength  which 
has  been  reached  through  weakness.  God,  as  we  have  seen 
Him  in  Jesus  Christ,  has  conquered  sorrow  and  death, 
and  revealed  a  joy  achieved  through  pain,  and  a  strength 
made  perfect  in  weakness.  It  is  such  strength  that  is 
found  in  the  joy  of  the  Lord,  for  all  our  joy  also  has 
in  its  heart  some  conquered  sorrow.  We  can  rejoice  only 
by  overcoming,  and  the  strength  we  reach  thus  is  the 
strength  of  victorious  men. 

Such  is  this  glad  strength  which  is  to  be  found  for 
men  in  God.  If  it  be  available,  it  must  be  our  duty  to 
possess  it.  The  world  has  already  too  many  of  the  weak 
and  sad  in  it,  and  has  certainly  no  need  of  more.  This 
is  a  plain  word  to  all  the  neurotic,  and  to  that  very  much 
over-indulged  member  of  society,  the  weak  brother.  If  in 
any  measure  you  have  it  in  your  choice,  then  it  is  a  great 


STRENGTH  AND  JOY  101 

and  urgent  duty  to  be  glad  and  to  be  strong.  To  swell 
voluntarily  the  ranks  of  the  inefficient,  to  add  another 
burden  to  the  immense  load  which  the  heart  of  the  world 
already  bears,  is  an  unmanly  and  shameful  thing.  To  all 
men  and  women  who  are  tempted  to  trade  on  their  weak- 
ness, to  be  exacting,  to  expect  and  demand  special  terms 
and  allowances,  the  great  words  are  spoken.  You  have  no 
right  to  your  weakness  and  your  gloom ;  arise  and  sing  ye 
that  dwell  in  the  dust;  play  the  man  and  rejoice.  Your 
God  rejoices,  Christ  is  risen,  and  the  hosts  of  heaven  are 
singing  a  new  song.  There  is  gladness  at  the  heart  of 
things.  It  is  for  you  to  believe  it  and  to  win  the  victory 
of  faith.  For  those  who  do  believe  it,  and  rejoice  in  God, 
out  of  weakness  are  indeed  made  strong. 


THE  ELUSIVENESS  OF  DESIRE 

"The  mirage   shall  become   a  pool." — Isaiah  xxxv.   7. 

The  most  fantastic  and  surely  the  most  cruel  of  all  natural 
phenomena  is  the  mirage  of  the  desert.  The  sands  of 
Africa,  and  the  clay  and  stones  of  the  Syrian  desert,  spread 
their  vast  expanse  of  tawny  or  leaden  colour  to  the  sun, 
and  the  hapless  traveller  whose  store  of  water  has  failed 
Iiim,  at  last  abandons  the  vain  hope  of  an  oasis.  Suddenly 
in  front  of  him  there  is  the  sparkle  of  sun  on  lapping 
waves.  It  is  a  lake  with  palm-trees,  or  an  inland  sea, 
with  wooded  islands  and  their  reflections  clear  in  the  waters 
as  the  ripples  die  down  to  calm.  With  tongue  cracked 
and  bloodshot  eyes  he  staggers  on  towards  that  magic 
that  is  fairer  and  more  delicate  than  any  real  scenery.  It 
recedes  before  his  advance,  and  as  the  fever  rises  he 
strips  off  his  clothing  piece  by  piece.  Afterwards  they 
find  him,  naked  and  dead,  on  the  hot  ground  where  the 
waters  had  shone  before  his  eyes. 

In  Hebrew  literature  there  is  much  reference  to  the 
desert.  The  usual  effect  of  it  upon  Israel's  thought  was 
to  teach  her  to  appreciate  her  oasis-land  of  Syria.  It  has 
aften  been  remarked  that  she  exaggerated  the  beauty  and 
fertility  of  her  land,  but  it  has  to  be  remembered  that 
those  trees  and  watersprings  and  mountains  are  seen  and 
described  by  men  whose  instintive  sense  of  the  surrounding 
desert  heightened  their  charms  by  contrast.  This,  how- 
ever, is  a  bolder  stroke.     The  writer  here  is  thinking  not 

(102) 


THE  ELUSIVENESS  OF  DESIRE  103 

of  escape  from  the  desert  but  attack  upon  it.  Ezekiel's 
waters  from  beneath  the  altar  are  to  reclaim  the  desert 
of  the  Dead  Sea.  But  this  goes  farther  still,  facing  those 
lies  and  delusions  which  are  the  most  exquisitely  tortur- 
ing devices  of  the  desert's  cruel  heart,  and  forcing  the 
mirage  itself  back  to  truth. 

We  need  not  pause  upon  the  historical  interpretation 
of  the  metaphor  for  Israel,  for  the  promise  is  of  applica- 
tion wide  as  human  life.  It  is  not  the  kingdom  of  God 
coming  upon  life  when  it  appears  grey  and  worthless,  to 
give  zest  and  the  promise  of  good,  that  is  here  depicted. 
It  is  life  appearing  good  and  full  of  zest  that  calls  forth 
desire,  and  then  failing  us.  It  is  the  disillusion  and  treach- 
ery, the  false  promises  of  happiness  and  satisfaction  lead- 
ing only  to  disappointed  hopes.  We  need  not  pose  as 
superior  persons  who  are  above  such  things.  "We  live 
by  admiration";  we  need  desire  and  the  satisfaction  of 
desire,  and  we  cannot  be  our  best  without  it. 

Well,  there  is  no  one  of  ripe  years  who  is  not  quite 
well  accustomed  to  see  the  waters  of  his  desire  turn  to 
mirage.  Some  one  has  said  that  most  of  the  pools  at  which 
we  slake  our  thirst  are  turgid.  But  that  is  not  the  worst. 
The  worst  is  that  when  we  come  to  the  pools  they  are  not 
there.  This  is  so  common  in  experience  that  the  repetition 
}f  it  sounds  commonplace.  Mirage  is  not  a  metaphor  of 
high  tragedy,  it  is  an  everyday  fact.  We  live  by  admira- 
tion, but  either  we  fail  to  reach  what  we  have  admired, 
or  reaching  it  find  it  no  longer  admirable.  Either  "sud- 
denly, as  rare  things  will,  it  vanished,"  or  "  achievement 
lacks  a  gracious  somewhat." 

It  is  but  natural  that  this  disillusion  should  have  called 
forth  voices  in  the  wilderness.  Job  will  ever  have  his 
comforters,  more  or  less  wise  and  relevant.  There  are 
realists  who  accept  the  situation,  and  appear  to  find  com- 
fort in  literature  and  speech  about  the  vanity  of  human 


104  THINGS  ETERNAL 

wishes.  Some  of  them  are  ever  laboriously  reminding  us 
of  the  mirage  of  life,  and  damping  the  ardour  of  young 
enthusiasts  with  their  cynicism — "Ah,  my  young  friends, 
but  wait  till  you  are  as  old  as  we  are!"  Nobler  voices 
too,  there  are,  crying  in  the  night  of  man's  discomfiture 
— voices  from  brave,  dark  hearts  that  shout  courage  amidst 
the  disillusion. 

As  one  by  one  thy  hopes  depart, 
Be  resolute  and  calm, 

or — "We  are  not  meant  to  succeed;  failure  is  the  fate 
allotted  .  .  .  but  God  forbid  it  should  be  man  that 
grumbles. "  But  such  comfort  is  not  enough.  We  do 
complain;  and,  if  we  are  being  cheated  by  the  false  ap- 
pearances of  things,  we  are  in  no  mood  to  accept  the 
situation  complacently.  Then,  while  we  stand  angrily  fac- 
ing the  trick  and  sham  of  life,  with  the  mocking  laughter 
of  the  universe  in  our  ears,  God's  great  voice  is  heard, 
"  The  mirage  shall  become  a  pool."  Here  is  a  new  thing 
— the  attack  upon  the  facts  themselves  by  the  only  one 
who  has  power  to  change  them.  It  is  like  God's  great 
way.  He  is  too  wise  and  true  to  deny  the  obvious  fact. 
The  poor  world  has  been  so  often  cheated  that  it  will 
never  trust  any  light-hearted  comforters.  But  this  voice 
acknowledges  the  fact  that  "the  world  passeth  away." 
"What  is  your  life?  it  is  is  even  a  mirage,"  it  says.  But 
then  it  adds,  "  The  mirage  shall  become  a  pool."  It 
faces  the  worst,  and  then  raises  the  shout  of  redemption. 
Disillusion  is  true,  but  it  is  not  the  last  word  there  is  to 
say.  The  dream  and  the  desire  of  life  have  proved  false 
for  a  time,  but  they  shall  yet  turn  out  true.  In  them  we 
have  touched  reality,  and  God  can  yet  confirm  it. 

The  promise  of  life  was  pools  of  water,  satisfying  its 
desires  for  health  and  beauty,  for  coolness  and  rest.  Christ 
is  often  misunderstood,  as  if  he  were  laying  new  spiritual 


THE  ELUSIVENESS  OF  DESIRE  105 

burdens  on  the  poor  children  of  desire.  Really  he  offers 
rest.  He  offers  not  another  thirst  for  an  ideal  still  more 
unattainable,  but  living  water  which  will  slake  the  soul's 
thirst.  He  offers  not  another  added  energy  to  the  spirit 
already  tired,  but  the  coolness  of  quiet  waters  and  the 
shade  of  the  trees  of  God.  He  offers  not  a  morbid  holi- 
ness but  a  healthful  and  natural  life. 

The  disillusioned  and  disappointed  will  naturally  dis- 
trust such  offers  as  these.  For  them  the  greensward  is 
faded,  and  the  colour  and  radiance  are  gone  out  of  life's 
vision,  leaving  but  the  harsh  monotony  of  the  desert.  De- 
sire, whether  granted  or  refused,  has  cheated  them,  until 
they  have  finally  made  up  their  mind  to  deaden  down  its 
fires :  they  do  not  intend  to  be  betrayed  again.  But  Christ 
insists  upon  reopening  the  question.  What  you  saw  and 
desired  was  real  good,  though  the  form  in  which  you 
sought  it  may  not  have  been  the  best  for  you.  But  the 
keen  and  poignant  sense  of  life  which  seemed  to  vanish 
has  not  really  disappeared.  All  that  you  wanted  to  make 
life  perfect,  God  still  has  in  store  for  you.  At  His  right 
hand  there  are  pleasures  for  ever  more. 

All  we  have  willed  or  hoped  or  dreamed  of  good,  shall  exist; 

Not  its  semblance,  but  itself;  no  beauty,  nor  good,  nor  power 
Whose  voice  has  gone  forth,  but  each  survives  for  the  melodist, 

When  eternity  confirms  the  conception  of  an  hour. 

And  if  the  question  still  be  asked,  when  these  things 
shall  be,  the  answer  probably  expected  is,  that  this  life 
is  not  all,  but  only  the  beginning.  Here  we  are  dis- 
ciplined by  desires,  there  we  shall  be  satisfied  with  ful- 
filments. It  is  a  legitimate  and  worthy  answer.  One  of 
the  most  powerful  arguments  for  immortality  is  just  this 
twofold  fact,  that  in  our  desires  we  catch  passing  glimpses 
of  convincing  and  evident  good,  and  that  in  many  cases 
these  are  all  which  is  allowed  us.  To  doubt  that  these  are 
waiting  for  fulfilment  in  some  life  complementary  to  this, 


106  THINGS  ETERNAL 

is  to  pronounce  all  experience  meaningless.  But  besides 
that,  when  the  love  and  power  of  Christ  enter  into  life 
here,  they  change  the  whole  aspect  of  it.  So  vital  and 
keen  a  thing  is  faith,  that  those  who  believe  find  not 
desire  only  but  fulfilment  of  desire,  and  that  increasing 
with  the  years.  We  shall  all  find  some  things  which  we 
have  desired  as  pools  of  water  turn  out  to  be  mirage. 
Those  are  wise  and  happy  who  resist  the  temptation  to 
rebel,  and  who  trust  this  great  word  of  God's  reassurance, 
The  mirage  shall  become  a  pool. 


THE  PHANTASMAGORIA  OF  LIFE 

"The   mirage   shall   become   a   pool." — Isaiah  xxxv.   7. 

Apart  from  the  treachery  of  the  mirage  which  offers 
illusive  waters  to  thirsty  lips,  there  is  also  its  confusion 
of  the  real  and  the  unreal  worlds.  East  of  Damascus  it 
may  be  seen  for  hours  together,  changing  the  grey  va- 
cancy of  the  horizon  into  an  unceasing  restless  kaleido- 
scopic spectacle  of  swiftly  changing  form  and  colour.  All 
sorts  of  familiar  scenes  suggest  themselves  to  the  imagi- 
nation as  picture  succeeds  picture.  But  the  general  effect 
is  so  powerful  as  to  defy  even  the  sanest  mind  to  retain 
its  sense  of  reality. 

This  aspect  of  the  mirage  suggests  a  nobler  interpreta- 
tion of  the  text  than  that  of  desire.  We  have,  after  all,  a 
deeper  quarrel  with  life  than  its  false  promises  of  satis- 
faction and  happiness.  We  demand  a  stable  and  abiding 
sense  of  a  real  world  in  which  we  are  dealing  with  realities. 
In  the  midst  of  many  interests  and  pursuits  there  come 
moments  when  the  whole  sense  of  life  fails  us  and  seems 
to  evaporate.  Shakespeare  knew  the  feeling  well,  and  has 
told  us  in  words  whose  familiarity  proves  how  true  has 
been  their  appeal,  of  life  as  "a  tale  told  by  an  idiot,  sig- 
nifying nothing,"  and  ourselves  as  "such  stuff  as  dreams 
are  made  of."  Sometimes  this  comes  as  a  general  reaction 
from  our  habitual  trust  in  the  soundness  of  our  ordinary 
views.  Sometimes  it  is  a  sharp  and  sudden  experience, 
when  some  event,  long  looked  forward  to,  seems  unreal 

(107) 


108  THINGS  ETERNAL 

when  it  comes,  and  in  spite  of  all  persuasions  to  the  con- 
trary we  find  ourselves  among  cloud-work,  each  man  walk- 
ing in  a  vain  show. 

The  great  idealists  have  sought  to  safeguard  man's 
belief  in  the  reality  of  his  spiritual  experience  by  the 
most  daring  philosophies;  asserting,  in  face  of  all  such 
faintings  of  the  spirit  as  we  have  mentioned,  that  the 
ideas  dwell  in  heaven,  and  that  thought  is  the  only  reality. 
Christian  optimists,  like  Kingsley  and  George  Macdonald, 
have  dogmatized  on  the  courageous  principle  that  such 
convictions  are  so  beautiful  that  they  must  be  true.  We 
are  grateful  for  all  such  voices,  yet  times  of  doubt  recur. 
Are  we  indeed  children  of  eternity,  lying  on  our  backs 
in  the  cave  as  Plato  says,  and  seeing  but  the  reflection 
of  things  on  the  roof,  yet  knowing  that  the  realities  are 
sure?  or  are  we  but  ants  tumbling  on  the  huge  ant-heap, 
taking  ourselves  with  an  absurd  seriousness,  and  dream- 
ing great  things?  Do  our  sins  and  virtues,  our  struggles 
and  resistances,  our  joys  and  sorrows  really  matter?  or 
are  these  all  but  the  cloud-work  of  the  desert  ?  The  voice  of 
God  assure  sus  that  the  mirage  shall  become  a  pool,  real 
enough  to  live  for  or  die  for.  That  is  what  Jesus  Christ 
has  done  for  the  world. 

Let  us  look  at  one  or  two  details. 

1.  Our  work  often  induces  a  sense  of  unreality.  Weary 
toilers,  whether  successful  or  unsuccessful,  feel  the  vanity 
even  of  finished  works,  and  still  more  the  vanity  of  unfin- 
ished works.  Many  a  man  has  built  his  tower,  done 
what  he  set  out  to  do,  and  the  tower  falls  and  his  labour 
is  lost;  or  worse  still,  his  tower  stands  only  to  shame  him 
with  its  imperfection,  for  it  is  not  the  thing  he  had  de- 
signed. The  better  the  workman,  the  more  unsatisfied  he 
is  with  his  finished  works.  And  then  how  much  has  to 
be  left  unfinished.  The  man's  designs  are  greater  than 
the  length  of  his  life.  "Ambition  had  set  its  hold  on 
him.     He  wanted  to  do  more  than  there  was  time  for. 


THE   PHANTASMAGORIA  OF  LIFE  109 

Like  many   of   us  he  began  by   thinking  that   life   was 
longer  than  it  is." 

Well,  finished  or  unfinished,  satisfactory  or  unsatisfac- 
tory, here  is  God's  verdict  upon  man's  honest  labour. 
He  approves  the  purpose  of  a  life,  and  His  approval  es- 
tablishes the  work  of  our  hands  upon  us.  He  understands 
what  you  meant  to  do,  and  knows  the  pattern  showed 
you  in  secret,  after  which  you  have  been  striving.  That, 
in  God's  sight,  is  reality.  It  is  work,  and  has  eternal 
value.  No  faithful  toil  can  ever  really  be  futile.  This 
assurance  brings  a  man  in  among  the  abiding  things,  for 
it  tells  him  that  he  has  built  an  house  not  made  with  hands 
that  is  eternal. 

2.  Character  is  often  a  most  tantalizing  and  lamentable 
mirage.  We  see  our  goal,  apparently  possible  and  within 
our  reach,  and  across  the  desert  we  pant  after  it.  But 
which  of  us  has  attained,  or  is  anything  resembling  the 
man  he  fain  would  be  1  The  flitting  and  evanescent  image 
of  our  noblest  manhood  often  dims  and  vanishes.  Old 
temptations  recurring  out  of  due  season  drawn  us  down 
from  high  hopes  to  low  levels  of  actual  conduct.  Honesty, 
justice,  purity,  even  when  we  have  reached  them  in  some 
degree,  are  a  compromise  rather  than  a  victory.  Our  high 
efforts  end  ignominously  in  the  mere  keeping  up  of  ap- 
pearances. At  times  a  subtle  doubt  invades,  and  we  find 
ourselves  persisting,  without  knowing  why  we  do  so, 
in  a  moral  struggle  of  whose  worth  we  are  by  no  means 
certain. 

Again  God's  word  is  that  that  mirage  also  shall  be- 
come a  pool.  One  day  we  shall  be  sure  with  an  indisput- 
able certainty  of  the  worth  of  the  struggle,  and  of  the 
glory  of  moral  victory.  What  good  hope  are  you  now 
clinging  to  in  your  disgusted  and  disillusioned  heart  ?  He 
will  "take  the  distorted  thing  in  His  hands  and  make 
something  gallant  of  it."     God  draws  out  the  best  that 


110  THINGS  ETERNAL 

is  in  a  man  and  confirms  it  upon  him.  Even  here  this 
may  be  felt  and  seen ;  and,  beyond,  we  shall  find  that  we 
have  been  fighting  better  than  we  knew. 

3.  Faith,  once  taken  to  be  the  surest  of  realities,  is  now 
discredited  in  many  minds.  It  seems  a  fantastic  dream- 
land, which  wakening  intellect  has  discovered  to  be  wild 
and  impossible.  Old  forms  and  securities  of  faith  have 
proved  illusory.  " Olympus  and  Sinai  are  deserts."  The 
great  mirage  of  Christianity  itself  is  over.  Jesus  Christ 
remains  but  as  the  memory  of  a  dream,  a  fair  form  in 
art,  a  hope  from  which  the  light  has  faded,  a  star  van- 
ished in  the  night. 

This  mirage  also  shall  become  a  pool  of  living  waters. 
In  some  form  or  other,  Christian  faith  is  going  to  prove 
true.  Where  the  waters  that  once  promised  refreshment 
have  vanished,  and  where  now  there  are  only  deserts  of 
intellectual  routine,  streams  of  vital  truth  will  flow  once 
more,  never  again  to  fail.  Looking  back  when  the  change 
is  completed,  you  will  not  count  it  a  change  from  reality 
to  unreality,  but  from  an  imperfect  vision  to  the  very 
truth  of  God  and  of  life.  There  is  a  faith  for  you  which 
will  never  need  to  be  abandoned,  a  sure  and  eternal  truth 
on  the  strength  of  which  you  may  live  and  die. 

Each  of  these  is  but  a  detail  in  the  great  mirage  of 
life  itself.  The  world,  with  the  brilliance  of  its  spectacle 
and  the  heave  and  fall  of  its  surge — we  have  found  it  out 
to  be  but  cloud,  and  still  we  gaze.  Real  or  not,  its  wond- 
er and  its  beauty  fascinate  us  and  hold  our  eyes.  And 
heaven,  as  you  once  imagined  it,  that  last  and  most  deli- 
cate mirage  of  all — you  used  to  be  thrilled  with  its  splen- 
dour ;  now  you  turn  from  its  gaudy  and  inadequate  cloud- 
land.    You  have  found  out  the  earth  and  the  heavens. 

Yes,  but  beneath  such  shows  of  things  there  are  realities 
— the  new  earth  and  the  new  heaven — an  earth  where 
life  is  real,  a  heaven  where  the  real  life  of  earth  is  made 


THE   PHANTASMAGORIA  OF  LIFE  111 

eternal.  For  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord  of  Realities,  and  He 
is  Master  of  earth  and  heaven,  who  "maketh  all  things 
new."  He  knows  how  we  all  dream,  and  how  futile  the 
dream  appears  on  our  awakening.  But  through  it  all 
there  remain  for  all  of  us  the  facts  of  faith  and  love  and 
service.  These  things  are  no  dream,  though  on  them  also 
for  a  moment  we  may  lose  our  hold.  Yet  for  the  faithful 
these  will  prove  so  real  that  they  will  give  reality  to  all 
the  rest  that  tends  so  readily  to  fade.  And  at  last  comes 
death.  "After  the  fever  of  life,  after  wearinesses  and 
sicknesses,  fightings  and  despondings,  languor  and  fret- 
fulness,  struggling  and  succeeding;  after  all  the  changes 
and  chances  of  this  troubled  unhealthy  state,  at  last  comes 
death,  at  length  the  great  white  throne,  at  length  the 
beatific  vision." 


A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW 

(The  Ascension-Day) 

"While  they  beheld,  He  was  taken  up;  and  a  cloud  received  Him 
out   of   their   sight." — Acts   i.    9. 

The  story  of  the  life  of  Jesus  falls  into  three  parts,  (1) 
a  man  on  earth  like  other  men,  (2)  still  on  the  earth,  but 
now  unearthly  and  occasional,  (3)  free  from  the  earth 
and  identified  with  the  life  of  God.  The  Ascension  narra- 
tive marks  the  change  from  the  second  to  the  third  of 
these,  cutting  off  His  earthly  from  His  heavenly  life.  The 
stories  of  the  days  after  the  Resurrection  tell  of  an  ex- 
perience which  was  indeed  comforting  but  yet  perplexing. 
Men  were  sure  that  Jesus  still  lived,  but  they  needed 
a  further  assurance  which  would  give  stability  and  the 
sense  of  permanence  to  faith.  They  had  been  living,  both 
before  and  after  His  death,  in  the  constant  expectation 
of  surprises.  But  now  no  surprise  could  happen  any 
more.  Peace  had  come,  such  as  can  come  only  when  the 
Best  is  also  the  Highest,  when  the  Son  of  God  is  at  God's 
right  hand. 

We  need  not  trouble  ourselves  about  curious  questions 
of  detail.  Scientific  speculations  regarding  matter  and 
spirit  are  irrelevant  here:  critical  questions  and  the  la- 
borious attempt  to  piece  together  the  various  accounts  into 
one  consistent  narrative  are  equally  out  of  place.  There 
is  indeed  in  the  Gospels  a  manifest  reserve,  and  even  a 
carelessness  as  to  consistency  of  detail,  which  send  us  back 

(112) 


A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW  113 

upon  the  heart  of  the  story.  The  eye  cannot  follow  Him 
on  that  day  when  a  cloud  receives  Him  out  of  our  sight. 
But  certain  things  remain,  truths  about  God  and  our 
human  life,  for  which  the  story  stands.  Four  of  these 
are: — 

1.  Earth' }s  view  of  Heaven. — ("  Gazing  up  into  Heav- 
en.") Heaven  has  ever  seemed  a  place  inaccessible  to 
earth.  The  truth  is,  when  we  speak  frankly,  that  spiritu- 
ality is  beyond  us.  The  natural  man  has  indeed  glimpses 
of  the  spiritual  world,  but  he  is  incapable  of  sustained 
or  satisfying  vision  of  it.  It  is  not  even  congenial  to 
him.  We  love  the  earth  and  understand  it  well,  but  heav- 
en we  neither  understand  nor  love.  It  is  difficult  to  be- 
lieve in,  still  more  difficult  to  realize,  and  absolutely  im- 
possible to  live  for,  leaving  all  for  its  sake. 

Part  of  the  reason  for  this  is  the  want  of  the  personal 
element.  Spirituality  without  that  is  always  tenuous  and 
bleak.  When  a  good  man  enters  heaven,  its  aspect  is  to 
some  extent  changed  for  his  friends.  He  is  there,  and 
the  way  by  which  he  went  seems  open.  Very  different 
are  the  sorts  of  entrance.  Some,  like  storm-beaten  ves- 
sels, hardly  struggle  into  port.  Some,  in  perfect  trim, 
finish  their  voyage  gaily,  the  white  sails  taking  the  evening 
light.  Some  chosen  spirits  make  us  feel  that  for  them 
the  heavens  are  impatient;  and  these,  with  their  pale, 
eager  faces  of  the  dying,  show  us  far  glimpses  through 
the  open  gates. 

But  above  all  the  dying,  Jesus  Christ  did  this  for  us 
when  He  went  to  His  own  place.  As  the  Resurrection 
silences  for  ever  all  talk  of  a  "lonely  Syrian  grave," 
so  the  Ascension  keeps  us  from  losing  Him  among  the 
sombre  mysteries  of  death.  His  future  is  no  "grand  per- 
haps." He  had  been  as  a  man  journeying  into  a  far 
country,  and  now  He  has  been  welcomed  home  after  that 
long  wandering.    It  was  His  design  to  make  heaven  clear 


114  THINGS  ETERNAL 

and  homely  to  the  eyes  of  earth;  and  the  disciples  now, 
looking  upward,  see  Jesus  Christ  there  and  know  it  for 
their  homeland.  He  has  absorbed  into  Himself  our  whole 
thought  of  heaven:  to  die  is  to  go  to  be  with  Christ.  It 
is  confessedly  difficult  to  believe  in  spiritual  things,  here 
or  hereafter.  But  it  is  not  difficult  to  believe  in  Jesus 
Christ.  It  is  easy  to  believe  in  Him,  and  He  is  there. 
Into  that  strange  land  He  is  thus  the  way,  and  since  He 
entered  it  earth's  view  of  heaven  has  been  different. 

2.  Heaven's  view  of  Earth.— ("Go  ye  into  all  the  world 
and  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature.")  Earth's  view 
of  earth  is  always  local.  We  see  the  part  around  our 
feet,  but  from  the  rest  we  are  hedged  in  by  all  manner 
of  barriers.  But  the  Ascension  of  Jesus  has  taught  us 
the  heavenly  point  of  view  for  earth,  at  which  all  local 
barriers  are  lost  sight  of. 

There  is  a  very  intimate  and  emphatic  connexion  be- 
tween the  Ascension  and  this  wide  outlook  and  command. 
In  Greek  and  Hebrew  thought  alike,  heaven  was  the  privi- 
leged home  of  a  select  minority  of  distinguished  persons, 
while  the  rest  passed  to  a  land  of  shadows,  and  the  ex- 
ceptional exaltation  of  the  few  made  the  general  doom 
only  the  more  apparent.  But  it  was  otherwise  with  Jesus. 
He  came  forth  at  first  as  a  local  Galilean  prophet ;  at  the 
last  He  appears  in  His  disciples'  preaching  as  the  Lord  of 
the  world,  the  King  of  nations.  But  this  expansion  is 
directly  connected  with  the  narrative  of  the  Ascension. 
Lifted  up  from  the  earth,  He  draws  all  men  unto  Him- 
self. He  breaks  up  and  ends  all  possibility  of  national  or 
local  religions.  He  is  detached  from  one  land  that  He 
may  claim  all  lands  and  come  into  the  sight  of  all.  Those 
who  in  spirit  are  ascended  with  Christ,  not  only  see  heav- 
en but  "overlook  the  world."  Thousands  of  men  and 
women,  brethren  in  far  lands,  came  into  sight  that  day. 
The   divisions   of   nationality,   race,   and   class,   and   the 


A  NEW  POINT  OF  VIEW  115 

barriers  of  aversion,  prejudice  and  ignorance,  all  were 
lost  sight  of.  This  is  the  characteristic  note  of  the  As- 
cension. We  must  ascend  with  Christ  and  get  above  the 
world  to  see  it  thus. 

And  having  seen  we  must  go  forth  into  the  newly  dis- 
covered breadth  of  the  world.  All  that  is  needed  for 
conviction  of  the  worth  of  foreign  missions,  and  all  other 
enterprises  for  the  help  of  man  by  man,  is  that  we  as- 
cend with  Christ.  Those  who  have  understood  the  mean- 
ing of  His  Ascension,  and  seen  the  world  from  the  heavenly 
point  of  view,  can  no  longer  stay  at  home.  Provincialism 
is  a  low  thing,  possible  only  to  the  earthly.  By  His  As- 
cension He  taught  men  the  cosmopolitanism  of  heaven's 
view  of  earth. 

3.  The  Power  of  the  Unseen.— ("  All  power  is  given  unto 
Me."  etc.)  One  would  think  that  power,  in  the  sense  of 
influence,  must  be  measured  by  visibility.  What  we  see 
most  clearly  we  feel  most  powerfully.  Yet  even  in  the 
material  world  there  is  abundant  evidence  that  the  great- 
est powers  surrounding  us  are  the  invisible  forces  of  na- 
ture. And  the  access  of  spiritual  power  that  came  upon 
Christians  after  Jesus  was  no  longer  visible  to  their  eyes, 
is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  facts  in  history. 

When  we  remember  the  helplessness  of  the  company  of 
disciples  huddled  together  after  the  Crucifixion,  we  might 
expect  a  paralysis  of  vital  energy  in  the  Church  now 
that  its  Lord  had  finally  vanished  from  the  earth.  Left 
alone,  with  their  gigantic  task  among  the  nations,  a  feeble 
band  pitted  against  the  possibilities  and  impossibilities  of 
the  situation,  surely  the  Church  must  feel  its  human 
weakness  to  the  point  of  despair. 

But  instead  of  this  we  find  them  returning  to  Jerusa- 
lem "with  great  joy,"  competent  men  who  were  adequate 
to  their  task.  Evidently  their  faith  had  become  a  force 
now,  and  that  force  was  a  sense  of  the  power  of  Christ. 


116  THINGS  ETERNAL 

Men  who  face  great  tasks  are  usually  keenly  alive  to  the 
sense  of  Fate.  But  for  them  henceforth  Fate  was  but  the 
will  of  Christ,  and  to  be  with  Him  in  will  was  to  be 
stronger  than  life  or  death. 

For  us  and  for  all  men  Christ's  secret  of  power  is  not 
visibility  but  exaltation.  He  is  not  seen  but  He  is  as- 
cended. Lack  of  spiritual  power  is  the  result  of  unworthy 
and  inadequate  thoughts  of  Christ.  Let  us  exalt  Him 
in  our  hearts,  for  the  more  He  is  exalted,  the  greater  is 
the  might  and  effectiveness  of  faith. 

4.  The  Presence  of  the  Absent. —  ("Lo,  I  am  with  you 
always.")  The  parting  of  Jesus  from  His  friends  really 
united  them  to  Him.  The  earthly  life  had  set  limits  of 
all  kinds  upon  Him.  He  was  here  and  not  there,  cut 
off  from  His  friends  by  absence  of  the  body.  Now,  He 
was  free  in  the  spiritual  land.  He  was  with  them  always, 
not  occasionally  as  before. 

And  this  meant  for  them  the  setting  free  of  love,  as 
only  the  Ascension  could  set  it  free.  They  needed  access 
to  Him,  for  their  love  longed  for  His  fellowship,  and  their 
attempts  at  service  often  needed  comfort.  With  His  As- 
cension there  came  upon  the  world  a  new  sense  of  the  love 
it  longed  for  made  accessible.  Love  was  the  essential  ele- 
ment in  the  whole  story  of  Christ.  Mohammed  died,  and 
the  fantastic  legend  honoured  him  with  a  coffin  hanging 
in  the  air.  That  was  high,  but  not  ascended  far  above 
the  earth.  It  was  all  that  could  be  looked  for,  for  the 
faith  of  Mohammed  set  power  free  but  not  love.  But 
Christ's  Ascension  set  love  in  the  heights  for  ever;  and 
from  the  heights  that  love  for  ever  streams  down  upon 
mankind.  The  presence  of  the  absent  is  precious  chiefly 
for  this,  that  neither  height  nor  depth  can  separate  us 
from  the  love  of  God  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord. 


THE  DAYS  OF  THE  SPIRIT 

(Whit-Sunday) 

"It  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away." — St.  John  xvi.  7. 

The  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  distinctive  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  essential  to  it.  Yet  it  is  so  delicate  that  its 
beauty  and  its  wonder  are  easily  spoiled  by  rough  hand- 
ling. It  is  difficult  to  deal  rightly  with  it,  and  it  is  dan- 
gerous if  abused.  On  the  one  hand,  hasty  believers,  im- 
patient of  its  subtlety,  have  materialized  it,  conceiving  of 
the  personality  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  a  crude  and  over- 
familiar  fashion.  All  mystery  has  vanished  from  the 
doctrine  for  them,  and  it  no  longer  answers  to  those  in- 
expressible hints  and  suggestions — 

those  first  affections, 
Those  shadowy  recollections.  .  .  . 
Fallings  from  us,  vanishings; 
Blank  misgivings  of  a  Creature 
Moving  about  in  worlds  not  realized 

— which  it  is  its  very  office  to  interpret.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  is  the  revulsion  from  all  this  on  the  part  of 
those  who,  with  an  equal  failure  to  appreciate  the  reticent 
and  secret  play  of  the  spiritual  in  life,  have  felt  the  crude 
statements  of  the  others  to  be  obvious  unrealities.  Such 
have  left  this  doctrine  severely  alone,  and  have  stated 
Christianity  in  so  wholly  unspiritual  a  way  that  one  can- 
not but  wonder  if  they  have  so  much  as  heard 
whether  there  be  any  Holy  Spirit.  The  result  in 
either  case  is  as  unnecessary  as  it  is  costly.     This  whole 

(117) 


118  THINGS  ETERNAL 

1 

region  is  withdrawn  indeed  and  occult,  yet  it  is  a  region 

of  obvious  facts  of  experience. 

It  is  in  connexion  with  these  facts  that  we  must  view 
the  necessity  for  Christ's  departure.  Life,  indeed,  seemed 
easy,  while  they  had  His  bodily  presence,  but  it  could 
never  be  complete.  "We  have  deep  needs,  spiritual  demands 
so  fine  and  intricate,  that  even  Christ  Himself  in  the  flesh 
could  not  satisfy  them,  but  must  rather  stand  between 
men  and  their  satisfaction.    Let  us  see  how  this  was  so. 

Jesus  appeared  in  the  midst  of  a  society  as  unspiritual 
as  could  well  be  imagined.  The  avowed  political  material- 
ism of  the  Sadducees,  and  the  unconscious  but  even  gross- 
er legalistic  materialistism  of  Pharisaism,  had  set  the 
fashion  of  the  nation's  thinking,  and  kept  it  earth-bound. 
Across  that  world  Jesus  flashed  a  great  spiritual  light. 
It  was  like  a  lightning-flash  illuminating  some  mean  street, 
and  revealing  unheard-of  colours  and  forms  in  its  deadly 
regularity.  Like  the  force  of  electricity,  this  spiritual 
force  which  Jesus  revealed  had  been  there  before,  but  un- 
discovered and  unutilized.  He  made  men  aware  of  a  new 
world,  in  which  He  Himself  was  living,  and  in  which 
they  ought  to  live.  It  was  a  world  of  spiritual  agencies 
and  forces,  potent  and  available  for  men.  The  plain  men 
who  followed  Him  uncomprehending,  felt  all  this  without 
clearly  knowing  what  it  was  they  felt.  In  Him  they  saw 
human  life  heightened,  with  keener  possibilities  and  more 
high-strung  intensity  of  purpose.  He  was  living  at  a 
higher  pressure  and  with  a  finer  delicacy  than  they  had 
known  in  any  other  life. 

And  yet,  for  their  sakes  He  must  leave  them.  They 
looked  on  in  wonder  at  this  new  kind  of  life,  but  they 
could  not  live  it  themselves.  The  very  fascination  of 
Jesus  kept  them  from  it.  He  was,  in  a  way,  a  personality 
too  commanding,  and  His  way  of  life  was  too  wonderful. 
"While   He  was  with  them  it  became  their  habit  not  to 


THE  DAYS  OF  THE  SPIRIT  119 

face  problems,  but  to  go  and  tell  Jesus.  He  bore  all  their 
burdens  and  undertook  their  responsibilities.  As  yet  they 
were  not  trying  to  learn  the  finesse  of  the  game  of  life, 
but  leaving  all  that  to  Him.  So  absorbing  was  His  pres- 
ence that  they  could  not  see  past  Him.  It  was  ever, 
''Thou  knowest  that  I  love  Thee,"  or  "My  Lord  and  my 
God,"  and  the  full  hearts  were  at  rest  and  asked  no  more. 
Thus  even  the  holiest  influences  may  deaden  spiritual 
activity.  St.  Paul  himself  finds  it  necessary  to  detach 
himself,  and  though  he  had  known  Christ  after  the  flesh, 
henceforth  to  know  Him  so  no  more.  So  for  those  disciples 
it  was  worth  while  to  lose  Jesus,  if  they  might  find  for 
themselves  the  way  into  that  spiritual  world  in  which 
they  had  seen  Him  moving.  For  He  did  not  come  to  be 
adored  by  men  who  could  never  reach  His  secret.  It  was 
His  will  that  those  who  had  been  given  Him  should  be 
with  Him  where  He  was. 

So  He  left  them,  and  the  days  of  the  Spirit  began.  Once 
He  was  gone,  they  were  in  a  position  to  review  the  past 
and  understand  its  meaning.  We  all  know  how  death 
speaks  to  us  of  our  beloved,  and  how  strangely  impres- 
sive is  the  power  of  that  which  is  no  more.  So  now  they 
could  see  His  life,  with  its  wonderful  spirituality,  in  per- 
spective and  as  a  whole. 

But  when  they  turned  from  the  memory  of  His  life  to 
the  need  of  taking  up  their  own,  they  found  that  He  had 
wrought  a  change  of  which  they  had  not  been  aware. 
The  still  pool  had  been  troubled  by  the  angel.  Life  was 
trembling  with  a  spiritual  quiver  and  had  taken  on  a  more 
delicate  significance.  They  were  no  longer  occupied  with 
deeds  and  spoken  words,  but  with  thoughts,  desires,  and 
imaginations.  No  longer  did  they  wait  for  command- 
ments; they  harkened  for  suggestions,  whispers  of  a  spir- 
itual voice  that  might  be  heard  within,  telling  them  His 
mind.     To  these  they  listened  and  tried  to  follow  them, 


120  THINGS  ETERNAL 

till  the  instinctive  voices  grew  clearer  and  more  constant, 
and  the  Spirit  was  in  command  of  their  lives.  Nor  was 
this  ministry  of  the  Spirit  an  isolated  thing,  confined  to 
the  lives  of  a  few  chosen  individuals.  Great  tides  of  it 
were  flowing,  which  affected  masses  of  men  and  even  na- 
tions. The  age  of  the  Spirit  had  come,  and  the  world 
felt  the  thrill  of  a  life  which  was  a  new  thing  in  the  ex- 
perience of  men. 

We  can  imagine  something  of  this  changed  aspect  of 
the  world.  In  early  childhood,  in  times  of  physical  weak- 
ness, in  rare  and  precious  hours  of  silence,  we  all  have 
been  aware  of  a  more  delicate  but  elusive  world — a  kind 
of  fairy-land  hardly  to  be  expressed.  But  words  multi- 
plied, concealing  thought;  health  grew  robuster  and  life 
more  crowded.  The  veil  of  flesh  fell  heavily  and  the  vision 
was  lost  and  would  not  return.  There  must  have  been 
for  those  disciples  something  like  a  re-entering  of  such 
regions  of  delicate  impressions.  No  longer  did  they  dream 
of  thrones  in  a  restored  kingdom,  no  longer  did  they 
expect  the  next  miracle  or  revel  in  great  hauls  of  fish 
or  super-abundance  of  bread.  He  had  thrust  them  forth 
into  the  difficult  and  wonderful  region  of  the  spiritual 
life.  They  had  to  take  up  its  responsibilities  and  make 
what  they  could  of  it.  They  had  to  venture  out  upon 
its  tides  of  spirit,  and  count  upon  its  mysterious  powers 
for  persuading  men.  And  they  were  able  to  do  this  in 
virtue  of  a  most  strange  return  to  childhood,  a  change  of 
spirit  which  had  given  them  back  the  freshness  of  their 
simplest  years.  Children  once  again,  as  Jesus  had  said 
they  must  become,  they  had  entered  and  were  dwelling 
in  a  kingdom  that  was  not  of  earth. 

If  this  be  Christianity  as  it  actually  was  in  the  begin- 
ning, that  fact  entirely  precludes  all  mere  materialism 
either  of  faith  or  of  unbelief.  There  is  more  in  Christian- 
ity than  eye  hath  seen  or  ear  heard ;  more  than  theologians 


THE  DAYS  OF  THE  SPIRIT  121 

have  defined  or  rationalists  denied.  There  is  in  human 
nature  a  craving  for  contact  with  the  spirit  world  deep 
as  life  itself.  The  Greek  oracles,  the  Alexandrian  gnosti- 
cism, and  the  many  varieties  of  spiritualistic  endeavour 
after  the  occult  in  modern  times,  all  bear  witness  to  that 
fact.  It  is  easy  to  dismiss  this  or  that  development  with 
the  word  " grotesque.' '  But  the  Christian  answer  to  these 
cravings  is  not  ridicule  nor  denial.  It  is  fulfilment,  for 
the  days  of  the  Christian  faith  are  indeed  the  Days  of 
the  Spirit.  And  this  is  the  record  of  a  historic  change 
for  which  Christ  is  responsible.  He  went  away  and  the 
Spirit  came. 


THE  SPIRITUAL  DOCTRINE  OF  GOD 

( Trinity-Sunday ) 

"For  there  are  three  that  bear  record  in  heaven,  the  Father,  the 

Word,  and  the  Holy  Ghost:  and  these  three  are  one." 

—1  John  v.  7. 

One  of  the  most  significant  and  valuable  changes  in  the 
habits  of  theological  thinking  is  the  change  from  the  de- 
ductive and  metaphysical  to  the  inductive  and  psycho- 
logical method.  In  simpler  language,  it  was  formerly  the 
rule  to  establish  a  doctrine  apart  from  our  human  ex- 
perience, and  then  to  adapt  life  and  thought  to  the  doc- 
trine; it  is  now  the  rule  to  take  our  human  experience 
with  us  when  we  are  trying  to  understand  or  state  all 
doctrines. 

In  no  case  is  this  latter  method  more  advantageous,  and 
indeed  necessary,  than  in  regard  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
Holy  Trinity.  If  we  try  to  build  it  up  out  of  proof-texts 
from  Scripture,  and  abstract  reasoning  and  speculation, 
we  shall  succeed  only  in  bewildering  ourselves.  The  ab- 
stract doctrine  of  the  Trinity  is  scholastic,  mechanical,  and 
fictitious.  The  popularized  form  of  such  a  conception 
will  be  either  some  form  of  tritheism,  or  it  will  be  a  mere 
paradox  with  no  meaning  at  all. 

But  it  was  not  in  this  abstract  fashion  that  the  doctrine 
originally  came.  It  did  not  arise  from  our  text,  for  that 
text  was  absent  from  the  original  documents  and  did  not 
appear  till  the  fifth  century.  The  doctrine,  as  Clarke  says, 
"  Sprang  up  in  experience,  not  in  speculation.,,    It  was 

(122) 


THE  SPIRITUAL  DOCTRINE  OP  GOD         123 

because  men  found  the  one  God  manifesting  Himself  to 
them  in  three  ways  that  they  tried  to  conceive  and  state 
their  thoughts  of  Him  accordingly.  The  abstract  formu- 
lations and  controversies  were  drawn  partly  from  Scrip- 
ture; partly  from  the  need  of  combating  heresies  which 
stated  the  being  of  God  in  terms  which  were  not  true 
to  the  Christian  experience;  and  partly  from  the  Greek 
spirit  which  sought  to  rationalize  and  harmonize  all  hu- 
man knowledge.  But  none  of  these  was  the  source  of 
the  doctrine,  which  arose  out  of  the  deepest  hours  of 
communion  between  the  souls  of  believers  and  God. 

On  the  one  hand,  by  the  very  constitution  of  our  minds 
we  perceive  the  demand  for  unity  in  God.     Apart  from 
this  there  can  be  no  universe,  no  rational  life  at  all.    And 
yet   our   social   instincts,   nay,   the   very   constitution   of 
human  nature,  reveal  variety  in  unity.     Thus,  on  the  one 
hand,  our  thought  of  God  could  never  rest  in  polytheism ; 
on  the  other  hand  pure  unitarianism  has  not  satisfied  the 
demand   of   religious    experience.      The    former   ends   in 
atheism,  for  it  has  never  remained  credible  under  the  test 
of  thought ;  the  later  tends  to  a  coldness  of  religious  spirit 
which  has  never  met  the  need  of  the  generality  of  men,  for 
it  is  incapable  of  adequately  revealing  God's  love. 
"We   do   not  indeed   profess   to   reconcile  the  unity   and 
the  variety  with  anything  like  a  clear  or  complete  under- 
standing.   The  mystery  remains  in  which  the  Divine  must 
ever  dwell.    Yet  trinitarian  doctrine  is  helpful,  for  it  saves 
us  from  being  "lost  in  the  vague  recesses  of  the  infinite," 
or  from  being  driven  to  assert  that  "God  is  too  awful  to 
be  worshipped."     It  keeps  our  manifold  nature  and  ex- 
perience at  every  point  in  touch  with  God. 

"When,  then,  we  ask  not  what  God  is  in  Himself,  but 
what  He  is  to  us,  the  answer  of  experience  is,  that  we 
know  Him  as  Father,  as  Son,  and  as  Holy  Spirit.  It  is 
interesting  to  remember  that  this  is  the  order  in  which 


124  THINGS  ETERNAL 

the  revelation  has  been  historically  made.  The  earliest 
phase  of  it  was  that  of  the  patriarchial  times  Then,  in 
the  nomad  society,  fatherhood  was  the  dominant  idea.  It 
governed  law,  custom,  and  all  the  affairs  and  relations 
of  life.  So  men,  looking  up  towards  the  Divine  through 
their  own  experience,  naturally  found  Him  as  the  Father 
— the  highest  expression  of  their  ruling  and  guiding  con- 
ception. Later,  when  national  history  grew  tragic  with 
sin  and  punishment,  defeat  and  exile  shattering  the  na- 
tion's complacent  life,  and  conscience  embittering  the 
misery  of  their  hearts,  there  came  a  second  phase,  The 
suffering  Servant,  the  stricken  and  afflicted  One  bearing 
on  His  own  heart  the  sins  of  many,  and  by  His  stripes 
healing  them,  revealed  the  Son.  When  Jesus  had  been 
crucified,  His  disciples  saw  in  Calvary  the  complete  reve- 
lation of  all  that  towards  which  the  prophets  had  been 
groping.  Here  was  another  view  of  God,  and  the  life  of 
the  world  demanded  it  and  were  satisfied  by  it.  Yet  these 
were  not  all.  Prom  the  first  there  had  been  a  sense  of 
the  Divine  inspiring  and  guiding  the  ordinary  life  of  man, 
quickening  his  interests  and  working  through  him  in  his 
enthusiasms.  In  the  days  of  the  Apostles  this  inspiring 
and  quickening  became  so  distinct  and  so  powerful  a  phe- 
nomenon, that  they  could  explain  it  no  otherwise  than  by  a 
third  view  of  God  as  Holy  Spirit.  Thus  in  historic  order, 
God  revealed  Himself  to  man  threefold. 

In  the  experience  of  the  individual  the  same  thing  is 
true,  and  though  no  religious  experience  is  coerced  into 
following  any  unbroken  order  of  sequence,  yet  in  general 
the  order  is  the  same.  The  little  child,  whose  environment 
is  the  Christian  home,  naturally  first  views  the  world 
under  the  dominating  idea  of  fatherhood.  His  parents 
are  to  him  inevitably  the  first  revelation  of  the  Divine,  and 
he  knows  the  Father.    Later,  when  life  has  led  him  to  its 


THE  SPIRITUAL  DOCTRINE  OF  GOD         125 

battle-fields  of  joy  and  sorrow,  of  sin  and  righteousness, 
he  needs  more  in  God  than  he  needed  in  the  innocence  of 
childhood.  Then  it  is  that  his  whole  nature  craves  for  and 
responds  to  the  revelation  of  God  which  is  given  in  Jesus 
Christ.  Farther  on  in  the  journey,  when  the  passionate 
days  of  youth  are  over,  the  meaning  of  life's  work  and 
thought  discloses  itself.  The  continued  labour  and  interest 
of  the  years  require  an  interpretation  which  will  keep 
the  man  strong  and  keen.  So  he  finds  God  revealed  as  the 
Holy  Spirit. 

Heine,  in  a  memorable  passage,  has  elaborated  this  con- 
ception, and  with  that  we  may  leave  the  subject.  We 
must  leave  it  in  mystery;  but  through  the  mystery  the 
great  thought  of  the  Holy  Trinity  shines,  sufficient  for 
the  needs  of  life,  though  still  eluding  the  efforts  of  the 
strongest  intellect.  We  cannot  master  these  conceptions 
and  force  them  into  a  unity  of  thought.  We  shall  be 
wise  if  we  let  them  master  us,  and  guide  us  into  a  life  of 
worship  and  obedience. 

"  Ah,  my  child,"  says  Heine,  "  while  I  was  yet  a  little 
boy,  while  I  yet  sat  upon  my  mother's  knee,  I  believed  in 
God  the  Father,  who  rules  up  there  in  heaven,  good  and 
great;  who  created  the  beautiful  earth,  and  the  beautiful 
men  and  women  thereon ;  who  ordained  for  sun,  moon,  and 
stars  their  courses. 

"When  I  got  bigger,  my  child,  I  comprehended  yet 
a  great  deal  more  than  this,  and  comprehended,  and  grew 
intelligent;  and  I  believe  on  the  Son  also,  on  the  beloved 
Son,  who  loved  us  and  revealed  love  to  us;  and  for  His 
reward,  as  always  happens,  was  crucified  by  the  people. 

"Now,  when  I  am  grown  up,  have  read  much,  have 
travelled  much,  my  heart  swells  within  me,  and  with  my 
whole  heart  I  believe  on  the  Holy  Ghost.  The  greatest 
miracles  were  of  His  working,  and  still  greater  miracles 


126  THINGS  ETERNAL 

doth  He  even  now  work;  He  burst  in  sunder  the  oppres- 
sor's stronghold,  and  He  burst  in  sunder  the  bondsman's 
3^oke.  He  heals  old  death-wounds,  and  renews  the  old 
right;  all  mankind  are  one  race  of  noble  equals  before 
Him.  He  chases  away  the  evening  clouds  and  the  dark 
cobwebs  of  the  brain,  which  have  spoilt  love  and  joy  for 
us,  which  day  and  night  have  lowered  on  us. ' ' 


THE  SPIRIT  AND  THE  INTELLECT 

"He  will  guide  you  into  all  truth."— St.  John  xvi.  13. 

We  have  yet  to  consider  the  significance  for  the  intellect 
of  the  change  from  the  days  of  Christ's  flesh  to  the  days 
of  the  Spirit.  We  have  already  seen  how  the  days  of  the 
Spirit  led  men  to  interpret  their  spiritual  experience  in 
terms  of  the  great  doctrine  of  the  Trinity.  But  that  is 
only  one  instance  of  the  general  guidance  into  truth  which 
is  here  promised. 

This  promise  demands  close  reflection,  for  the  super- 
ficial understanding  of  it  is  dangerous.  There  is  in  some 
quarters  a  tendency  towards  the  idea  that  this  is  some 
miraculous  method  of  gaining  knowledge  apart  from  the 
ordinary  ways  in  which  knowledge  is  acquired — an  idea 
which  has  led  to  disastrous  results  both  of  intellectual  in- 
dolence and  spiritual  arrogance.  Under  its  supposed  sanc- 
tion, some  whose  duty  it  was  to  be  students  following  the 
ordinary  painstaking  methods  of  study  and  research,  have 
imagined  themselves  capable  of  pronouncing  opinions  upon 
matters  which  they  had  not  studied,  mistaking  the  crude 
and  mistaken  ideas  of  their  undisciplined  minds  for  reve- 
lations. Even  practical  business  men  have  neglected  the 
ordinary  rules  and  methods  of  business,  to  follow  an  in- 
dependent guidance  which  has  led  to  disastrous  conse- 
quences. Such  attempts  to  leap  for  the  top  of  the  ladder 
are  really  the  result  not  of  spiritual  illumination  but  of 
intellectual  indolence.     There  are  no  short  cuts  to  knowl- 

(127) 


128  THINGS  ETERNAL 

edge,  and  this  as  true  of  religious  knowledge  as  it  is  of 
scientific,  or  any  other  department  of  the  search  for  truth. 
Morover,  those  who  in  this  way  seek  for  knowledge  by 
indolent  magic  instead  of  by  honest  work,  cut  off  from  the 
humbling  discipline  of  the  search,  are  apt  to  grow  vain 
of  their  supposed  wisdom,  and  arrogantly  assume  a  spir- 
itual superiority  to  others  who  are  content  to  follow  the 
more  patient  and  honest  way.  It  is  as  dishonest  to  seek 
interest  upon  fictitious  capital  in  spiritual  things  as  it  is 
in  the  stock  exchange,  and  such  spiritual  arrogance  is  akin 
to  the  pride  of  the  noveau  riche  speculator. 

It  is  not  new  facts  of  knowledge,  gained  without  expendi- 
ture of  study,  that  are  here  promised,  but  something  far 
nobler  and  more  valuable.  The  days  of  the  Spirit  are  days 
in  which  all  a  man's  powers  of  thought  and  imagination 
are  quickened  from  within.  So  real  is  this  vital  agency 
which  Christ  promised,  that  its  effects  may  be  seen  in  even 
secular  regions.  The  Old  Testament  is  full  of  the  record 
of  men  upon  whom  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  came  mightily, 
producing  the  best  results  in  music,  in  building,  in  decora- 
tion, and  along  the  whole  line  of  secular  activities.  The 
range  of  the  Spirit's  operation  is  as  wide  as  the  interests 
and  concerns  of  human  life.  The  student  will  be  a  better 
student,  the  business  man  more  capable,  if  they  live  in 
the  Spirit.  Even  in  those  secular  ways,  no  one  is  so  trying 
as  the  mere  matter-of-fact  person,  and  no  one  reaches  truth 
less  than  he.  The  man  to  whom  a  flower  is  merely  a  bo- 
tanical specimen,  to  be  dissected  and  classified,  will  never 
be  a  botanist  of  the  highest  order,  for  he  has  not  the  Spirit. 
The  artist  whose  painting  is  but  the  following  out  of 
mechanical  rules  of  drawing  and  of  colour,  will  ever  be  but 
second  rate;  while  those  who  gain  the  supreme  places  in 
art  are  every  the  first  to  confess  that  their  pictures  leapt 
to  expression  in  some  moment  of  inspiration  which  they 
themselves  did  not  understand.    Such  moments  are  reve- 


THE  SPIRIT  AND  THE  INTELLECT  129 

lations  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  that  is  why  high  art  calls 
forth  our  reverence. 

But  those  heightened  powers  of  the  spiritual  life  show 
themselves  most  of  all  in  regard  to  Jesus  Christ.  It  needs 
spiritual  insight  to  understand  Him,  and  it  was  spiritual 
insight  alone  which  distinguished  the  disciples  from  the 
Pharisees.  To  some  men  still  His  words  sound  common- 
place, and  His  story  is  unimpressive.  Others  find  way- 
side sayings  of  His  take  on  new  meaning  as  life  leads 
them  forward  into  new  situations.  As  they  read  His 
words,  floods  of  light  stream  upon  the  problems  of  life 
and  upon  the  being  and  character  of  God.  He  Himself 
grows  more  wonderful  to  them,  and  His  power  and  love 
master  their  passions  and  command  their  souls.  They 
know  Him  not  after  the  flesh  but  after  the  Spirit. 

There  is  yet  a  further  promise — "  He  will  show  you 
things  to  come."  This  does  not  mean  the  very  poor  and 
doubtful  gift  of  foretelling,  which  would  again  reduce 
Christianity  to  magic  and  detach  it  from  normal  human 
experience.  It  is  but  an  expansion  of  the  former  promise, 
which  is  not  merely  that  we  shall  know,  but  that  we  shall 
be  guided  into  truth.  For  truth  is  a  living  thing,  not 
fixed  and  stationary  but  growing.  Truth  has  a  future  as 
well  as  a  present,  and  it  develops  from  age  to  age.  The 
growth  of  the  Christian  creed  is  proof  of  this.  It  did  not 
come  to  the  world  full-formed  like  the  goddess  from  the 
waves  of  Cyprus.  It  expanded  from  form  to  form,  each 
new  dogmatic  advance  revealing  new  stretches  of  thought, 
and  leading  thinkers  to  understand  the  former  doctrines 
more  fully  and  to  re-state  them  more  accurately.  The 
oldest  truth  can  only  be  rightly  seen  in  the  light  of  the 
newest  revelation.  As  time  leads  men  into  new  fields  of 
inquiry,  and  science  discovers  new  methods  of  research, 
these  new  methods,  applied  to  the  old  doctrines,  bring  them 
out  into  richer  and  more  wonderful  light.     And  as  the 


130  THINGS  ETERNAL 

general  progress  of  civilization  lays  emphasis  upon  new 
human  conditions  and  needs,  a  like  change  of  emphasis 
appears  in  our  thoughts  of  God  and  of  His  ways  with 
men.  Thus  it  need  not  surprise  us  that  the  point  of  view 
in  theology  has  changed  and  is  changing.  It  is  but  the 
fulfilment  of  the  promise  of  Christ  that  the  Spirit,  in 
guiding  men  into  all  truth,  would  show  them  things  to 
come. 

Further,  there  is  a  counterpart  in  the  experience  of 
each  individual  to  'the  general  development  of  truth  in 
the  history  of  thought.  Within  the  compass  of  each 
separate  life,  the  truth  ought  to  expand.  At  first  we  see 
it  as  it  bears  on  our  experience  and  knowledge  up  to  that 
time.  But  as  experience  grows  wider,  we  see  it  in  new 
bearings  and  relations,  and  gradually  realize  what  it  must 
involve  when  more  completely  understood  and  more  widely 
applied.  This,  however,  is  true  only  of  the  spiritual  man. 
The  world  of  the  Spirit  is  a  world  not  of  inert  convictions 
but  of  intense  vitality  and  movement,  where  every  belief 
is  a  living  thing,  expanding  and  growing  richer  continually 
under  the  guidance  of  the  Spirit. 


THE   SPIRIT  AND   THE   CONSCIENCE 

"He  will  convict  the  world  of  sin,  and  of  righteousness,  and  of 
judgment." — St.   John  xvi,  8-11. 

Tn  these  words  we  have  a  more  detailed  description  of  the 
days  of  the  Spirit — a  closer  view  of  what  that  remarkable 
change  from  material  to  spiritual  life  involves  for  the  con- 
science, as  we  have  already  seen  its  value  for  the  intellect. 

Its  significance  for  the  conscience  is  implied  in  the 
promise  that  the  Spirit  will  "  convict  "  the  world.  The 
word  does  not  denote  the  convincing  of  the  intellect,  but 
rather  the  striking  home  upon  the  moral  sense,  the  strength- 
ening and  refining  of  all  the  moral  faculties  and  powers. 
In  its  light  the  three  great  ethical  facts  of  sin,  righteous- 
ness, and  judgment,  take  on  a  new  meaning. 

1.  Sin — There  is  nothing  more  liable  to  be  inadequately 
conceived  than  sin.  We  think  of  it  in  general  as  a  way 
of  behaviour  which  is  contrary  to  public  rights  or  to  pri- 
vate interests  or  tastes,  and  the  outwardness  of  our  view 
leads  to  shallowness.  Yet  there  are  time  when  no  known 
wrong  has  been  done,  and  when  conscience  nevertheless 
"  trembles  like  a  guilty  thing  surprised.'7  Such  obstinate 
misgivings  cannot  be  suppressed  without  doing  violence 
to  our  moral  nature,  nor  can  they  be  made  to  vanish  by 
any  scientific  attempts  to  explain  them  away.  They  pre- 
pare us  for  the  finer  sensibility  of  conscience,  the  more 
exacting  tests  and  the  higher  standards  of  the  days  of  the 

(131) 


132  THINGS  ETERNAL 

Spirit,  and  they  enable  us  to  understand  these  strange 
words  "  sin,  because  they  believe  not  on  me." 

It  is  a  common  fallacy  to  consider  the  regions  of  belief 
and  morals  separate,  in  "  water-tight  compartments."  It 
is,  indeed,  important  to  guard  the  neutrality  of  intellect 
against  the  unjust  suspicions  and  accusations  which  have 
sometimes  been  entertained.  It  must  be  emphatically  main- 
tained that  in  many  cases  a  man's  belief  or  unbelief  can- 
not be  traced  to  his  moral  soundness  or  default.  Yet  that 
is  but  half  the  truth.  Behind  our  present  condition  of 
belief  or  unbelief  lies  the  history  of  an  infinite  number  of 
small  choices  of  right  or  wrong.  Those  habitual  and 
insignificant-looking  choices  induce  the  moods  which  over- 
shadow the  life,  and  fix  the  general  attitude  of  the  soul. 
When  a  man's  mind  is  habitually  turned  away  from 
Christ,  unimpressed  by  Him  or  even  actively  repelled, 
that  fact  may  indeed  be  discussed  as  a  purely  intellectual 
phenomenon.  But  it  is  more  than  that.  The  Spirit  dis- 
covers in  it  a  whole  world  of  sin,  manifest  in  previous 
habits  of  choice  with  which  it  has  apparently  no  con- 
nexion. 

2.  Righteousness — our  thought  of  which  is  also  inade- 
quate, for  want  of  vital  interest.  We  may  not  indeed  be 
willing  to  confess  to  the  cynical  view  that  righteousness 
is  actually  a  cross;  but  we  must  confess  that  we  have  to 
try  hard  to  be  good,  and  that  we  have  sometimes  found  it 
a  dull  business,  which  we  have  had  to  strengthen  by  re- 
minding ourselves  that  after  all  it  pays. 

The  spiritual  view  of  righteousness  is  that  it  "  goes  to 
the  Father."  Christ  had  been  for  the  disciples  the  com- 
plete embodiment  of  righteousness,  and  this  is  His  greatest 
saying  about  it.  He  tells  them  that  men  will  receive  a 
new  conviction  of  it  altogether  when  He  goes  to  the  Father. 
It  was  by  thus  bringing  righteousness  into  connexion  with 
the  Father  that  he  transformed  it.     One  expects  to  see 


THE  SPIRIT  AND  THE   CONSCIENCE         133 

the  angels  ascending  and  descending  between  heaven  and 
earth  upon  the  Son  of  man.  And  here  is  this  great  angel 
of  righteousness,  seen  now  in  its  heavenly  aspect. 

It  is  when  we  realize  that  righteousness  goes  to  the 
Father  that  we  find  it  has  become  convincing.  In  ordinary 
views  of  it,  we  see  it  going  to  the  law,  to  a  man's  good 
name,  to  success  in  life ;  but  when  that  is  all,  we  can  still 
hold  it  in  suspense.  But  now  it  has  become  indisputable, 
because  it  consists  no  longer  in  obeying  a  law  but  in  doing 
the  will  of  one  who  loves  us.  There  is  no  disputing  that 
claim.  It  enlists  not  merely  the  delight  of  all  healthy 
minds  in  cleanness,  but  the  surrender  of  the  will  to  love. 
And  because  it  is  God's  will  to  which  we  surrender,  there 
is  revealed  also  the  godlikeness  of  goodness.  The  tender- 
ness of  God's  compassion,  the  strength  and  gentleness  of 
the  Father's  heart,  all  help  us  to  realize  the  fascination 
of  righteousness.  It  is  seen  to  be  real,  dependent  on  no 
questions  of  ethical  casuistry,  but  real  as  the  love  which 
requires  it.  It  is  human,  for  the  character  of  God  is  mani- 
festly the  heritage  of  His  sons.  It  is  attainable,  and  we, 
too,  must  arise  and  go  to  the  Father,  whither  our  righteous- 
ness has  already  gone.  In  this  high  light  we  see  as  it 
were  our  aspirations  and  ideals  finding  their  way  to  the 
Father,  and  ourselves  following  them  in  growing  obedi- 
ence. All  this  changed  aspect  of  the  moral  world  comes 
to  us  when  our  righteousness  no  longer  stays  on  earth 
but  goes  to  the  Father. 

3.  Judgment — and  the  reference  is  not  so  much  to  a 
future  Judgment  Day  as  to  our  moral  judgments  in  the 
present  life.  Before  the  days  of  the  Spirit,  these  judg- 
ments are  inaccurate  because  they  are  confused  by  the 
cross-lights  of  the  world.  Conscience  gives  one  set  of 
judgments,  but  the  estimates  of  the  world  are  different, 
and  we  are  tempted  to  accept  these  as  the  more  tolerant 
and   comfortable.     Of   course   there  are   certain  glaring 


134  THINGS  ETERNAL 

matters  which  are  so  obvious  that  all  are  perforce  agreed 
about  them.  But  there  are  innumerable  questions  whose 
answer  is  by  no  means  clear,  where  right  or  wrong  must 
be  settled  by  finer  instincts.  Apart  from  the  Spirit,  it 
must  be  confessed  that  while  both  conscience  and  the 
world  are  plausible,  yet  on  the  whole  the  world's  less 
stringent  fashion  of  judging  may  often  seem  to  be  the 
more  reasonable  of  the  two. 

But  in  the  days  of  the  Spirit,  the  prince  of  this  world 
is  judged.  It  is  not  merely  that  in  this  or  that  particular 
we  are  led  to  choose  the  verdict  of  conscience  against  the 
world.  But  a  comprehensive  judgment  is  passed  against 
the  worth  of  the  world 's  judgment.  It  has  seemed  authori- 
tative, and  it  has  required  courage  to  question  it.  Many  a 
time  it  has  been  imperious  enough  to  silence  the  quieter 
voice  of  conscience.  But  now  those  who  have  caught  sight 
of  the  spiritual  world  are  set  free  from  their  bondage  to 
this  world's  opinion.  All  things  have  fallen  into  propor- 
tion, and  they  see  the  relative  values  of  the  judgments. 
The  apparent  lordliness  of  this  world  is  seen  to  be  a 
mere  delusion  and  a  sham.  No  good  can  come  of  trusting 
the  verdict  of  this  world  which  passeth  away  against  the 
verdict  of  the  Spirit  which  abideth  for  ever.  In  Christian 's 
invective  against  Apollyon,  before  the  fight  in  the  valley, 
we  have  a  classical  example  of  the  judgment  of  the  prince 
of  this  world.  And  we  feel  how  the  true  royalty  is  trans- 
ferred from  the  swaggering  spirit  of  this  world  to  the 
quiet  might  of  those  assurances  which  are  the  work  of  the 
Spirit. 


THE  UNKNOWN  CHRIST 

(St.  John  the  Baptist) 

"There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye  know  not." — 
St.  John  i.  26. 

From  every  point  of  view  this  scene  is  peculiarly  inter- 
esting and  graphic.  The  valley  of  Jordan,  with  its  suc- 
cessive shelf-like  ledges  of  plateau  that  mark  the  various 
levels  of  the  flood,  and  its  pride  of  bushy  trees  and  lush 
water-side  grass  that  crawls  winding  like  a  green  snake 
along  the  colourless  barrenness  of  the  wide  valley,  is  itself 
a  unique  piece  of  natural  scenery.  The  crowds  that  then 
filled  it,  drawn  from  every  rank  and  from  every  district 
of  Palestine,  lent  their  added  human  interest.  Not  often, 
even  in  that  land  of  crowded  open-air  spectacles,  could 
such  a  cosmopolitan  and  representative  multitude  be  seen. 
The  man  at  the  river-side  was  still  more  unique — a  man 
who  from  childhood  had  lived  apart,  taking  his  views  of 
men  and  things  direct,  and  not  through  any  of  the  ordinary 
channels  of  knowledge.  His  mind  was  like  his  shaggy 
garment  and  his  food — unusual,  simple,  and  primitive. 
His  thoughts  passed  through  no  medium  of  public  opinion 
that  would  tone  them  down  to  words  conventionally  correct. 
They  went  forth  from  him  as  they  came  to  him,  immediate 
and  unsoftened  by  any  thought  of  politeness  or  propriety. 
To  complete  the  strangeness  of  the  scene  we  have  him 
confronted  by  those  who  represented  the  extreme  opposite 

(135) 


136  THINGS  ETERNAL 

of  such  simplicity,  priests  and  Levites  sent  by  the  Jews 
from  Jerusalem.  These  were  men  who  had  entirely  lost 
their  identity,  merging  themselves  in  the  conventions  of 
a  ludicrously  overdone  religious  system.  Slaves  of  ritual 
and  formulae,  their  minds  had  neither  power  of  vision  nor 
of  judgment.  Outside  the  routine  of  words,  they  were 
lost  at  once.  It  was  the  confronting  of  a  child  of  nature 
with  men  of  the  schools. 

They  were  out  after  names,  and  they  had  come  to  the 
very  home  of  realities.  Jerusalem  was  uneasy  because  it 
could  not  get  a  name  for  John.  All  nameless  things,  all 
that  was  original,  unconventional,  unusual,  made  Jerusalem 
uneasy.  The  strain  of  political  crisis  set  men's  nerves  on 
edge,  and  brought  to  an  acute  point  those  instincts  of  the 
pedagogue  which  feared  and  hated  the  undefined.  So 
they  came  with  their  question,  "  Who  art  thou?  that  we 
may  give  an  answer  to  them  that  sent  us.  Art  thou  the 
Christ,  or  Elias,  or  that  prophet,  and  if  thou  art  none 
of  these,  then  who?"  It  was  such  questioning  that  drew 
from  Jesus  the  ironical  sayings  as  to  what  they  went  out 
for  to  see — Was  it  a  reed  shaken  with  the  wind,  or  a  man 
clothed  in  soft  clothing?  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  one  list 
of  categories  was  as  accurate  as  the  other  for  John  the 
Baptist.  He  fitted  no  niche  in  their  gallary,  no  shelf 
in  their  museum.  All  that  they  wanted  from  him  was  an 
answer,  that  they  might  put  the  right  name  on  him  and 
dismiss  him  from  their  minds. 

But  that  was  not  all  what  John  wanted.  It  mattered 
nothing  to  him  what  men  called  him,  but  it  mattered  every- 
thing what  they  did  with  his  message.  So  he  answers, 
"  I  am  a  voice  crying,"  "  I  baptize  with  water."  It  was 
as  if  he  had  said,  "  This  is  the  wilderness,  and  I  refuse 
to  come  back  from  it  to  the  schools.  This  is  the  place  of 
realities,  not  of  fictions.  I  am  just  what  you  hear  and 
see.     Let  your  minds  play  directly  upon  these  obvious 


THE  UNKNOWN  CHRIST  137 

facts.  Take  me  for  what  I  am,  and  do  justice  to  the  facts 
as  you  find  them." 

It  would  be  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  importance  of 
that  reply,  with  its  demand  to  let  his  "  work  speak  for 
itself  without  the  prejudice  of  a  name. ' '  There  are  always 
such  men  of  theory  who  look  upon  all  departments  of  the 
world  as  a  museum  for  them  to  catalogue.  Their  whole 
interest  in  any  phenomenon  is  to  get  it  properly  desig- 
nated, labelled,  and  pigeon-holed.  One  of  Robert  Brown- 
ings' characteristic  phrases  is  "  knows  and  names,"  but 
these  men  name  without  really  knowing,  and  the  name 
becomes  the  enemy  of  knowledge.  Classification  is  a  valu- 
able help  to  knowledge,  but  it  is  often  used  as  a  substi- 
tute for  knowledge.  Then  it  becomes  a  mere  thought- 
saving  apparatus,  a  device  for  stifling  thought.  For  life 
is  greater  than  many  pigeon-holes,  and  a  soul  than  defi- 
nitions. The  first  secret  of  true  knowledge  is  to  take 
men  and  things  as  they  are,  without  a  theory,  and  to  let 
them  reveal  themselves.  There  is  less  need  either  for 
names  or  theories  than  for  an  open  and  loving  eye  in  the 
search  for  truth.  Everything,  even  the  meanest  an  most 
common,  has  hidden  depths  of  significance,  which  are  best 
explored  while  it  remains  uncatalogued. 

Yet  John  is  not  content  with  this  keen-edged  truth. 
His  thoughts  and  imagination  were  full  of  one  face  he 
had  seen  in  that  sea  of  faces,  and  he  goes  on  to  say,  '  *  There 
standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye  know  not — one  who 
will  baffle  your  classifying  even  more  completely  than  I 
— one  whom  it  will  do  you  little  good  to  catalogue,  but  to 
know  whom  is  eternal  life. ' '  And  as  they  looked  round 
in  curiosity  it  may  well  be  that  the  eyes  of  some  of  them 
fell  upon  the  Carpenter  of  Nazareth,  classed  Him  at  once 
as  a  village  tradesman,  and  continued  their  search. 

The  story  of  Jesus  Christ  is  a  familiar  story,  how  He 
was  born,  lived,  taught,  died,  was  buried,  and  rose  from 


138  THINGS  ETERNAL 

the  dead.  Some  believe  it,  and  some  sigh,  saying  that  it  is 
a  great  mystery.  Doubts  invade  their  faith.  Questions  of 
pre-existence,  virgin-birth,  miracles,  or  resurrection  hinder 
them  from  pronouncing  upon  it,  though  they  know  it  all 
so  well.  But  both  believers  and  unbelievers  alike  often 
mistake  knowing  for  defining,  and  so  repeat  the  old  error 
of  the  priests  and  Levites.  The  mere  ahievement  of  form- 
ing a  theory  and  finding  a  name  for  Him  will  bring  a 
man  no  nearer  heaven  than  the  arranging  of  specimens 
in  a  case.  Christ  is  neither  imprisoned  in  history  nor 
in  heaven,  neither  in  the  Bible  nor  in  the  Church.  Faith 
in  Christ  is  not  the  passing  of  an  examination  in  theo- 
logical terms  and  doctrines :  it  is  a  magnificent  realization 
of  the  eternal  love  as  it  is  in  Him  who  interprets  life  and 
reveals  the  Father.  Christ  is  one  that  standeth  among 
you — the  Eternal  Contemporary  who  has  never  left  man- 
kind. The  questions  about  Him  can  wait  and  find  answer 
tomorrow;  but  our  souls  may  find  themselves  and  their 
God  through  Him  today. 

Many  speak  of  Him,  and  put  this  name  or  that  upon 
Him,  who  do  not  know  Him  at  all.  But  here  and  there 
a  soul  discovers  Him  and  is  amazed.  He  is  so  much  more 
human  than  all  that  has  been  said  about  Him — so  much 
more  human  and  so  much  more  divine.  That  tremendous 
personality  is  at  work  in  our  own  lives  and  in  the  lives 
of  all  about  us — at  work,  and  working  for  the  same  ends 
as  of  old.  The  marriage-feast  of  Cana  is  not  ended.  In 
a  thousand  homes  He  is  turning  the  water  of  life  and 
love  and  work  into  wine  today.  The  temptation  on  the 
mountain  are  still  in  progress,  and  the  Son  of  Man,  in 
a  thousand  struggling  souls,  is  winning  His  victory  over 
self-indulgence  and  pride  and  the  glory  of  the  world  which 
the  devil  offers.  The  woman  taken  in  adultery  is  still 
hearing  the  incredible  words:  " Neither  do  I  condemn 
thee;  go  and  sin  no  more."    The  Pharisee  in  the  Temple 


THE  UNKNOWN  CHRIST  139 

is  still  being  rejected  in  favour  of  the  sin-smitten  publican. 
The  cross  is  still  on  Calvary,  and  men  are  learning  there 
the  love  and  sacrifice  through  which  God  wins  the  victory 
over  the  sin  of  the  world. 

These  things  are  happening.  They  are  the  only  true 
interpretation  of  human  life  as  we  find  it  within  our- 
selves and  in  our  fellow-men.  Every  stroke  of  conscience, 
every  desire  of  better  life,  every  generous  impulse,  every 
victory  over  temptation,  every  sudden  glory  when  the 
spirit  is  set  free  and  leaps  to  eternal  love,  every  touch 
of  compassion,  when  we  feel  the  sin  and  sorrow  of  our 
fellow-man  upon  our  own  heart,  and  pitying  him  would 
fain  save  him — there  is  Christ  Jesus,  manifest  to  the  eyes 
of  those  that  will  see.  To  understand  these  things  we 
have  to  turn  to  Him.  To  do  them  justice  we  have  to 
interpret  them  in  terms  of  His  life  and  words. 

It  is  said  that  in  the  French  Revolution  the  maddened 
crowd  was  rushing  through  the  corridors  of  the  Tuileries, 
bent  on  the  murder  of  the  Queen.  A  young  girl  was  in 
the  front  of  that  wild  rush,  and  when  they  reached  the 
locked  door  of  the  royal  apartment  she  was  driven  against 
it  with  the  full  force  of  the  mass  of  impetuous  humanity 
behind  her.  The  door  gave  way,  and  she  was  flung  bleed- 
ing and  unconscious  forward  upon  the  floor.  When  the 
girl  came  to  herself  the  beautiful,  compassionate  face  of 
Marie  Antoinette  was  bending  over  her,  the  womanly 
arm  of  the  Queen  supporting  her,  while  with  her  hand- 
kerchief she  sought  to  stanch  the  bleeding  of  the  wound. 
The  girl's  eyes  opened,  and  filled  with  tears.  Then  break- 
ing into  a  passion  of  weeping  she  cried:  "  Oh,  I  never 
dreamed  she  was  like  this."  So  poor  mortals,  fleeing  from 
their  own  salvation,  think  this  and  that  of  Christ,  until  the 
hour  comes  when  they  meet  His  eyes,  bending  over  them 
in  undreamed  of  tenderness  to  heal  their  wound.  Ah, 
until  that  hour  comes,  there  is  none  of  us  that  has  ever 
dreamed  He  was  like  that. 


THE  UNKNOWN  NEIGHBOUR 

"There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye  know  not." — 
St.  John  i.  26. 

The  vicious  practice  of  mistaking  classification  for  knowl- 
edge extends  far  beyond  the  Jews'  misapprehension  of 
John  and  Jesus.  It  vitiates  our  whole  judgment  of  our 
fellows.  As  those  priests  and  Levites  looked  around  the 
crowd  that  had  gathered  beside  the  Jordan,  they  were 
doubtless  busy  classifying  the  people  into  groups  accord- 
ing to  the  localities  from  which  they  came  and  the  trades 
they  followed.  It  never  struck  them  that  each  one  of 
these  ordinary  human  beings  had  a  significance  of  his  own, 
deep  as  hell  and  high  as  heaven.  The  truest  and  the  rarest 
kind  of  knowledge  is  that  which  knows  familiar  things  or 
people.  There  is  no  mystery  so  wonderful  as  that  which 
is  to  be  found  nearest  home. 

One  hears  sometimes  the  more  or  less  cynical  boast 
that  such  a  man  "  knows  men,"  by  which  nothing  better 
is  intended  than  that  the  critic  has  some  unkindly  general- 
izations regarding  human  weaknesses  and  foibles,  which 
he  has  chosen  for  his  guidance  and  protection.  This  is 
but  an  extreme  form  of  the  error  which  is  here  exposed. 
Divide  society  into  groups,  acquire  a  stock  of  ready-made 
judgments  upon  each  of  these  groups  en  masse,  and 
trouble  yourself  no  more  about  your  fellows.  Kich  and 
poor,  sick  and  well,  young  and  old,  educated  and  ignorant, 
refined   and  vulgar,   clever  and  stupid — chase  the   indi- 

(140) 


THE  UNKNOWN  NEIGHBOUR  141 

vidual  into  his  group,  and  your  responsibility  in  judging 
him  is  ended:  as  if  all  labourers  or  shopkeepers  or  lords 
were  identical  with  the  others  of  their  class.  It  is  in  this 
way,  by  reason  of  the  barricades  natural  and  artificial 
which  we  have  thrown  up  around  classes,  that  all  those 
huge  provincialisms  arise  which  separate  man  from  man. 
There  is  the  national  provincialism,  which  has  its  designa- 
tion for  all  men  of  each  nation,  and  keeps  wars  and  suspi- 
cions and  alienations  still  among  us.  There  is  the  social 
provincialism,  which  takes  for  its  units  such  classes  as 
employers  and  employed,  and  is  responsible  for  labour 
warfare  and  class  hatred.  There  is  the  Church  provincial- 
ism, which  asks  only  whether  a  man  is  a  Roman  Catholic, 
a  Unitarian,  or  a  member  of  this  or  that  one  of  the  in- 
numerable sects  of  Protestantism,  and  having  branded 
him  with  a  name  proceeds  to  praise  or  to  condemn  him. 
It  is  incredible  until  one  comes  to  think  of  it  how  deep 
rooted  is  our  habit  of  accepting  such  class-names  as  rigid 
and  final  standards  of  judgment,  to  be  taken  as  settling 
our  estimate  of  our  fellow-men  and  our  attitude  towards 
them. 

The  whole  secret  of  social  science,  as  of  all  professional 
efficiency,  is  to  end  this  dangerous  fallacy.  It  is  said  that 
a  young  lady,  annoyed  by  the  rudeness  of  some  poorly 
dressed  girls  who  were  passing  her,  exclaimed:  "  Such 
creatures  ought  to  be  got  rid  of,"  and  was  answered  by 
her  friend,  "  Do  you  know  that  that  is  just  what  they 
are  saying  about  you  ? ' '  For  indeed  ' '  one  half  of  the  world 
does  not  know  how  the  other  half  lives, ' '  and  all  our  harsh 
judgments  are  the  result  of  ignorance.  If  we  really  knew 
them — how  they  live,  how  they  weep  and  laugh — we  would 
love  them  all.  And  the  great  secret  is  to  be  able  to  put 
ourselves  in  their  places,  to  live  their  lives  and  think  their 
thoughts  as  if  we  were  they.  If  we  could  take  our  fellows 
out  of  their  pigeon-holes  and  let  them  reveal  themselves 


142  THINGS  ETERNAL 

simply  as  they  are,  if  we  could  look  one  another  in  the 
face  as  man  to  man,  we  would  soon  solve  the  social  problem. 
There  is  no  end  to  the  range  of  practical  applications 
of  this  principle.  To  know  men  is  to  know  their  hearts, 
and  not  their  manners.  Those  are  but  few  who  are  masters 
of  the  difficult  art  of  self-expression,  and  most  men  mean 
a  better  thing  than  they  know  how  to  say.  It  is  to  know 
their  temptations,  and  not  merely  their  sins.  No  judgments 
are  so  cheap  as  those  we  pass  upon  each  other's  trans- 
gressions. The  real  standard  for  the  guilt  of  a  sin  is 
the  distance  that  had  to  be  crossed  to  reach  it.  One, 
removed  by  circumstances  or  by  taste  so  far  from  it  that 
to  commit  it  he  would  have  to  make  a  supreme  and  painful 
effort,  can  be  no  judge  of  another  who  has  but  to  take 
one  false  step  to  fall  into  its  abyss.  It  is  one  thing  to 
commit  a  crime  to  which  one  has  no  inducement,  and  which 
is  out  of  the  whole  region  of  one's  desires.  It  is  another 
thing  to  fall  into  it  upon  the  hundredth  temptation,  when 
for  long  days  one  has  kept  off  ninety  and  nine  temptations 
that  were  tearing  the  flesh  and  throwing  their  glamour 
over  the  spirit,  until  at  last  the  wearied  will  loses  grasp 
of  resolution,  and  the  thing  is  done. 

What's  done  we  partly  may  compute, 
But  know  not  what's  resisted. 

To  know  men  is  to  know  their  struggles  and  desires, 
and  not  merely  their  achievements.  They  may  be  making 
poor  work  of  it,  and  presenting  to  their  critics  a  spectacle 
of  almost  unbroken  failure  and  second-rate  or  third-rate 
result,  and  yet  they  may  be  worth  far  more  than  can  be 
measured  by  results.  God  only  knows  the  shame  and 
discouragement  in  their  hearts  because  of  those  failures 
that  the  world  judges  so  lightly.  He  measures  them  not 
by  what  they  have  done  or  are  yet  doing,  but  by  what 
they  are  longing  for  and  trying.    He  "  calleth  things  that 


THE  UNKNOWN  NEIGHBOUR  143 

are  not  as  though  they  were,"  and  sees  and  counts  the 
secret  effort  and  ideal,  so  long  as  men  are  honestly  striv- 
ing to  realize  it. 

All  instincts  immature, 
All  purposes  unsure, 
That  weighed  not  as  his  work,  yet  swelled  the  man's  amount.  . .  . 
All  I  could  never  be, 
All  men  ignored  in  me, 
This,  I  was  worth  to  God,  whose  wheel  the  pitcher  shaped. 

And  indeed  such  hidden  purposes  and  desires  may  one 
day  surprise  the  world  with  their  actual  achievement. 
It  is  never  safe  to  despise  one  of  these  little  ones.  They 
may  be  waiting  for  their  hour,  in  which  they  will  humiliate 
those  who  have  discounted  them.  In  all  our  knowledge  of 
men  it  is  wise  to  allow  wide  margins  for  slumbering  powers, 
and  to  seek  to  discover  such  if  we  may. 

To  know  men  is  to  know  their  worth,  and  not  merely 
their  defects.  In  every  life  there  is  both  good  and  evil, 
and  we  are  all  vexing  and  irritating  each  other  in  more 
or  less  unconscious  ways.  Yet,  thank  God,  we  are  all 
helping  on  each  other's  lives  also,  and  the  general  life 
of  man  is  forwarded  not  by  immaculate  people,  but  by- 
very  faulty  ones,  who  yet  have  the  qualities  of  their 
defects.  Those  are  wise  who  train  their  minds  to  appre- 
ciation rather  than  to  censure,  who  can  discount  annoy- 
ances that  they  may  discover  genuine  worth  of  character. 
One  of  the  commonest  kinds  of  tragedy  in  life  is  that  of 
those  who,  while  their  friends  are  with  them,  see  only 
the  disagreeable  traits,  and  hear  only  the  jarring  discords. 
When  the  friends  are  gone  they  discover  too  late  how 
great  a  gap  they  have  been  filling,  and  how  many  quiet 
services  they  have  been  rendering. 

So  far  we  have  been  finding  how  much  it  means  when 
we  say  we  know  each  other.  It  means  that  we  have 
acquired  that  finest  art  of  appreciating  the  unadvertised 


144  THINGS  ETERNAL 

excellences,  the  silent  courage  of  unvictorious  struggles, 
the  hidden  beauties  that  lurk  beneath  the  dust  of 
the  wayside  or  the  dead  leaves  of  the  wood.  All  this 
means  that  we  have  learned  the  secret  of  the  Lord  who 
looketh  not  on  the  outward  appearance  but  on  the  heart. 

But  there  is  a  deeper  secret  yet — the  secret  of  Jesus 
Christ.  The  usual  standard  by  which  men  judge  one 
another  is  the  essentially  selfish  one  of  how  much  the  man 
is  worth  to  his  critic.  How  much  can  I  learn  from  him 
or  receive  from  him  1  How  much  can  he  give  me  of  * l  love, 
amusement,  sympathy!"  Judged  by  that  standard  we 
shall  all  find  many  apparently  worthless  people  around  us. 
But  if  we  would  reverse  the  standard,  and  ask  what  is 
their  need  of  us  instead  of  what  is  their  value  to  us,  we 
should  find  ourselves  in  a  new  world.  Instead  of  seeking 
to  exploit  the  wealth  of  the  natures  about  us,  we  might 
explore  their  poverty  in  the  hope  of  enriching  it.  That 
is  the  authentic  note  of  Christ — the  instinct  of  the  saviour. 
And  for  the  saviour  there  can  be  no  uninteresting  people 
anywhere.  For  him,  the  most  impoverished  lives  are  in- 
deed the  most  interesting;  and  the  less  there  is  to  receive, 
the  more  chance  there  is  for  giving. 

Those  who  would  really  know  men,  and  taste  the  full 
wonder  of  the  human  world  about  them,  must  leave  off 
complaining  that  no  one  understands  them,  or  help  them, 
or  cares  for  them.  We  are  not  here  to  be  understood  but 
to  understand ;  not  to  receive  but  to  give.  Those  are  twice 
blessed  who  know  and  practise  that  great  rule  of  life. 
For  to  them  there  can  be  no  dull  moment  amid  a  world  so 
full  of  need ;  and  as  they  walk  to  and  fro  to  understand 
and  bless  their  fellows,  they  shall  have  the  companion- 
ship of  Jesus  Christ. 


THE   UNKNOWN   SELF 

"There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye  know  not." — 
St.  John  i.  26. 

The  distinction  between  classification  and  knowledge 
tempts  us  to  go  one  step  farther,  and  surely  every  man 
in  earnest  about  his  deeper  life  will  feel  that  this  step 
(whether  the  priests  and  Levites  took  it  or  not)  is  not 
only  justifiable  but  necessary.  The  mystery  of  human 
life  reaches  its  depth,  not  in  the  lives  of  others,  but  in  our 
own;  and  the  one  among  us  whom  we  know  least  of  all 
is  just  ourself.  "  In  one  sense  of  the  word  it  is  of  course 
necessary,  as  the  Greek  oracle  said,  to  know  oneself.  That 
is  the  first  achievement  of  knowledge.  But  to  recognize 
that  the  soul  of  a  man  is  unknowable,  is  the  ultimate 
achievement  of  wisdom.  The  final  mystery  is  oneself. " 
These  words  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  are  true  and 
weighty.  Yet  there  are  recesses  of  that  buried  life  of  ours 
which  we  may  explore.  We  may  not  know  the  deep  mys- 
tery of  our  being,  but  we  all  may  come  to  know  ourselves 
far  better  than  we  do. 

We  think  we  know  ourselves  well,  and  there  is  not  one 
of  us  but  has  catalogued  himself  more  or  less  to  his  own 
satisfaction.  Yet  these  judgments  never  quite  satisfy  us. 
Doubts  invade  the  securest  and  most  self-complacent  at 
times,  as  to  how  we  look  from  without,  and  we  are  curious 
"  to  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us."  J.  B.  Gough,  himself 
the  prince  of  mimics,  used  to  say  that  he  would  go  a 
hundred  miles  to  see  any  one  imitating  him.    And  at  times 

(145) 


146  THINGS  ETERNAL 

a  deeper  doubt  invades  our  security.  Not  only  would  we 
correct  by  the  judgments  of  others  our  estimate  of  our 
own  worth  and  place  among  men,  but  we  wonder  what 
we  really  are,  and  would  measure  ourselves  by  greater 
and  more  eternal  standards.  "  I  go  to  find  my  soul." 
When  a  man  goes  out  on  this  adventure,  conscience 
walks  for  guide  by  his  bridle  rein.  Much  of  his  piety 
turns  out  to  be,  like  that  of  William  Law's  Poenitens  on 
his  death-bed,  ''imaginary  piety."  He  sees  how  shallow 
and  self-indulgent  many  of  his  virtues  have  been,  and 
how  many  motives  of  mere  prudence  or  of  actual  selfish- 
ness lay  unseen  behind  fair  deeds.  He  sees  a  multitude 
of  sins  where  formerly  none  were  visible  at  all.  For  those 
sins  were  guarded  with  excuses,  and  he  regarded  them 
in  the  light  of  their  history.  He  knew  how  they  began, 
what  circumstances  hemmed  them  in  until  they  seemed 
inevitable,  how  subtly  they  blended  with  innocent  and  even 
noble  aspirations.  To  him  they  are  but  habits  and  pe- 
culiarities, or  at  the  worst  weaknesses  or  unfortunate  ne- 
cessities of  the  situation.  To  know  yourself  is  to  strip  from 
your  sins  their  coverings  of  excuse  and  palliation,  and  to 
know  them  for  what  they  are.  Such  knowledge  is  never 
flattering.  It  leads  a  man  among  strange  companions, 
until  he  cannot  look  upon  a  drunkard  or  a  thief  without 
the  sinister  conviction  that  they  are  remarkably  like  him- 
self;  for  the  same  self-indulgence  and  the  same  covetous- 
ness  and  disregard  of  the  rights  of  others,  are  actually 
in  him  though  they  have  not  come  out  into  such  broad 
expression.  We  are  all  worse  than  we  think.  Yet  that 
is  not  the  only  truth.  If  that  lurid  picture  were  man's 
true  self,  and  that  were  the  last  word  God  had  to  say  to 
life,  then  we  might  throw  up  the  attempt  altogether.  But 
things  are  not  so  bad  as  that,  and  there  need  be  no  such 
word  as  despair  for  any  man.  We  are  all  better  than  we 
think. 


THE  UNKNOWN  SELF  147 

That  is  a  bold  word,  and  yet  it  is  literally  true,  and 
true  for  every  man.  Discouraged  people,  downcast  after 
many  failures,  are  tempted  to  discount  themselves  and  say 
that  they  are  mere  nobodies  and  it  is  no  use  for  them  to 
try.  The  late  Dr.  Joseph  Parker,  speaking  on  this  subject, 
answered  such  a  complaint  with  the  shout  that  "  God  has 
not  time  to  make  nobodies."  And  in  very  truth  we  are 
all  bigger  than  that ;  we  all  do  count  for  something. l '  Trust 
thyself:"  says  Emerson,  "  every  heart  vibrates  to  that 
iron  string."  The  downcast  ones  hear  such  a  word  with 
amazement,  having  learned  to  distrust  themselves  by  bitter 
experience. 

They  need  to  be  reminded  that  our  manhood  is  but  in 
the  making,  and  that  we  are  all  good  for  making  men  of. 
As  the  caterpillar  is  to  the  butterfly,  such  is  our  actual  self 
to  the  self  we  may  become.  We  have  to  learn  to  live  and 
think  on  the  platform  of  the  ideal;  to  repudiate  ourselves 
as  we  are  and  lay  hold  on  a  nobler  manhood  which  is  our 
true  self.  We  have  to  say  every  day  to  ourselves,  "  Get 
thee  behind  me,"  and  to  keep  our  eyes  steadily  fixed  on 
that  which  we  would  fain  be.  In  the  great  words  of  Walt 
Whitman : — 

You  broken   resolutions,   you   racking  angers,   you   short-lived 

ennuis, 
Ah,  think  not  you  shall  finally  triumph,  my  real  self  has  yet  to 

come  forth. 
It  shall  march  forth  over-mastering,  till  all  lie  beneath  me, 
It  shall  stand  up,  the  soldier  of  unquestioned  victory. 

Thus  to  know  oneself  is  to  know  something  at  least  of 
one's  possibilities,  and  to  believe  that  they  are  real  possi- 
bilities and  not  fictions. 

This  holds  true  for  every  detail  of  character.  Some 
will  admit  it  in  a  general  way,  but  will  always  make 
exceptions  in  regard  to  those  points  on  which  they  feel 
themselves  peculiarly  weak.     He  who  is  lazy,  either  by 


148  THINGS  ETERNAL 

disposition  or  by  habit,  looks  on  with  wonder  at  the  amount 
of  work  his  neighbour  manages  to  get  through;  for  him- 
self, he  simply  has  no  time  for  it.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
he  has  exactly  as  much  time  as  the  other  has,  but  he  has 
no  idea  of  the  amount  of  diligence  he  is  capable  of,  nor  of 
how  elastic  time  is,  and  how  it  yields  to  determination. 
The  weak  man  envies  the  strong,  and  imagines  that  strength 
lies  in  nerve  and  muscle.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  lies  mostly 
in  making  up  one's  mind  and  keeping  it  made  up:  and 
weakness  in  every  case  has  an  element  in  it  of  self-indul- 
gence which  is  wholly  in  our  power  to  check  or  to  en- 
courage. The  besetting  sin  of  another  man  is  lust,  and 
to  him  the  innocence  of  the  pure  in  heart  seems  inhuman 
and  impossible.  He  does  not  know  how  purity  is  won, 
nor  how  it  is  maintained.  The  control  of  imagination  and 
desire,  the  honour  of  the  spirit,  are  things  which  any  man 
may  learn  and  keep  unstained,  if  he  will  but  be  resolute 
and  self-denying  enough  to  do  it.  Another  man  is  gloomy, 
and  his  hard  lot  has  embittered  him.  Cheerful  people 
provoke  him,  and  he  dismisses  their  example  from  his  con- 
science on  the  ground  that  they  are  naturally  light-hearted, 
and  presumably  shallow.  The  truth  is  that  a  bright  spirit 
is  the  reward  of  self -discipline.  The  misanthrope  has  no 
idea  how  many  smiles  are  at  his  command,  nor  how  easily 
he  might  escape  from  gloom  if  he  would  think  of  others 
and  forget  himself.  Another  is  impulsive  but  lacking  in 
constancy.  Quick  tempers  flash  in  him,  and  undo  his  reso- 
lutions and  beginnings.  Yet  he  has  never  realized  that 
it  needs  not  to  be  so.  He,  too,  can  be  patient  and  perse- 
vere. He  always  yields  and  changes  before  the  end  of 
his  powers  of  endurance  have  come.  He  might  have  held 
on  a  little  longer.  Some  of  the  most  calm  and  evenly 
balanced  men  used  to  be  irritable  and  uncertain,  some  of 
the  most  dogged  used  to  be  volatile.  When  we  are  tempted 
to  say  that  things  have  gone  over  us,  and  to  let  go,  it  is 


THE  UNKNOWN  SELF  149 

well  to  remember  this,  and  to  refuse  the  tempter. 

So  far  we  have  dealt  with  character  in  general,  especially 
as  it  meets  us  in  our  weakest  point.  But  there  is  also  our 
strongest  point — some  line  of  special  power  and  capacity 
which  we  are  born  to  find  and  to  work  out.  Every  one 
has  such  a  strong  point,  though  not  every  one  discovers 
what  it  is ;  and  most  men  have  a  very  strong  point  indeed, 
so  much  their  own  that  if  they  find  it  it  will  amount  at 
least  to  talent,  and  possibly  even  to  genius.  Let  the 
poorest  of  spirits  be  but  "  anointed  by  the  occasion," 
let  him  fully  find  his  life's  opportunity,  and  he  will 
be  suddenly  transformed.  Those  who  formerly  discounted 
him  will  find  to  their  astonishment  that  it  is  now  no 
laughing  matter  to  oppose  him,  for  a  man  who  has  thus 
discovered  his  strength  is  ever  "  a  stark  man  to  his  ene- 
mies." This  is  a  truth  especially  for  those  who  have 
failed  in  this  or  that  line.  Such  failure  should  be  regarded 
as  a  guide,  not  an  eviction.  It  is  a  challenge  and  not  a 
doom.  Sometimes  it  may  mean  that  you  are  called  to  make 
a  new  and  more  strenuous  effort  at  the  same  ideal;  some- 
times it  may  point  to  some  other  venture.  There  is  a  line 
which  offers  you  your  chance  of  greatness  and  victory, 
whether  it  be  the  one  along  which  your  first  attempt  was 
made  or  some  other.  What  you  need  is  to  believe  in  your- 
self. Whenever  you  are  tempted  to  lament  a  natural  de- 
fect, or  the  limitations  of  circumstances,  or  the  shame  of 
failure,  say  to  your  soul  that  you  do  not  yet  know  your- 
self. You  have  not  yet  discovered  your  own  powers  of 
resistance,  or  of  strength,  or  of  tenderness.  Go  out  again 
to  find  your  soul,  and  go  as  a  man  going  to  claim  an  inheri- 
tance. For  indeed,  like  Parsifal,  you  are  "  heir  to  this 
glories  you  ride  forth  to  seek." 

And  there  is  more  than  that.  On  the  Castle  Eock  in 
Edinburgh  four  bugles  blow  the  last  post  over  the  dark- 
ening city  every  night.     One  31st  of  March  long  ago,  it 


150  THINGS  ETERNAL 

is  said  that  a  bugler  was  murdered  there.  The  legend  tells 
that  on  every  31st  of  March  the  listeners  in  streets  and 
homes  hear  the  ghostly  sound  of  a  fifth  bugler,  calling  as 
of  old.  So  over  our  lives  sound  many  bugles,  calling  us 
to  courage  and  manhood.  But  beyond  these,  at  times,  the 
spirit  hearts  a  fifth  bugle— the  call  of  Christ  Himself  from 
the  ramparts,  "  Because  I  live,  ye  shall  live  also." 


DUTY   AND    PLEASURE 

"Are  not  Abana  and  Pharpar,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better  than 
all  the  waters  of  Israel?" — 2  Kings  v.  12. 

Few  figures  in  the  Old  Testament  impress  us  with  a  more 
living  and  human  interest  than  that  of  Naaman  the  Syrian. 
He  appears  as  one  of  the  first  gentlemen  of  Damascus,  and 
Damascus  was  the  Paris  of  the  ancient  East.  It  was 
famous  as  the  chief  centre  of  the  Aramaean  caravan  traffic, 
and  consequently  the  commercial  capital  of  a  vast  region 
of  land.  It  was  famous  also  for  its  beauty,  and  was  well 
named  "  the  Pearl,"  lying  like  a  white  star  caught  and 
glad  to  stay  in  the  luxuriant  wealth  of  green  that  every- 
where surrounds  it — an  exquisite  oasis  rescued  by  the 
Abana  from  the  edge  of  the  tawny  desert.  From  age  to 
age  it  lies  there,  sphinx-like  in  its  gaze  across  the  desert, 
unheeding  of  the  flight  of  time  or  the  passing  of  the  gen- 
erations, sufficient  to  itself  and  absorbed  wholly  in  its 
own  wonderful  life.  Add  to  all  this  the  fact  that  for  the 
time  being  it  was  rejoicing  in  a  victory  over  its  Western 
rival  Israel,  and  you  have  the  very  place  where  a  man 
might  be  content  with  the  earth,  and,  unlike  Mohammed, 
wish  for  no  other  Paradise. 

At  the  forefront  of  all  this  stands  Naaman,  wealthy, 
famous,  victorious;  popular  alike  with  his  kind  and  with 
his  servants,  beloved  and  happy  in  his  home.  Yet  upon 
him  has  come  the  terrific  doom  of  leprosy,  running  its 
iron  wedge  deep  into  the  golden  dream.  Suddenly  the 
spell  is  broken,  and  we  seem  to  hear  the  sickening  of  the 

(151) 


152  THINGS  ETERNAL 

music,  and  to  see  the  fountains  dying  and  the  sunshine 
fading  out.  From  an  enchantment  life  has  become  a 
delirium.  Everything  has  lost  its  reality,  and  the  phan- 
tom world  about  him  is  full  of  mockery. 

Then  he  remembers  a  land  famous  for  realities.  It  has 
no  such  splendour  of  palaces  and  fountains,  no  such  gorg- 
eous luxuriance  of  Nature,  no  such  commercial  greatness 
nor  military  glory.  Yet  they  seem  to  be  in  touch  with 
deeper  facts  there,  and  to  have  penetrated  further  into 
the  heart  of  things.  It  is  not  a  land  to  trouble  with  while 
all  is  well ;  but  now,  what  can  a  man  do  1 

So  he  sets  off  on  the  long  journey.  The  swift  chariot- 
drives  through  that  glorious  air  would  have  been  things  to 
remember,  were  a  man  well  enough  to  delight  in  them. 
The  ravines  of  Hauran  and  its  wide  corn-fields  bring  him 
to  the  long  Samaritan  valleys,  and  to  the  palace  of  the 
king.  But  the  king  is  pusillanimous,  and  the  prophet 
haughty.  He  sees  only  a  servant  and  receives  directions 
to  wash  in  their  river.  Then  the  leper  is  forgotten  and 
the  great  official  remembered.  He  has  expected  pomp  and 
circumstance  befitting  his  dignity,  and  his  gorge  rises  at 
this  inhospitable  land  and  its  unmannerly  ways  and  its 
despised  waters. 

It  was  not  the  rivers  that  Naaman  set  in  contrast,  so 
much  as  the  lands  of  which  they  were  the  symbols  and 
indeed  creators.  Jordan,  flinging  its  great  arm  round  the 
whole  East  of  Palestine,  cuts  it  out  from  the  desert.  Abana, 
carefully  distributed  in  many  channels  along  its  upper 
valley,  is  literally  the  one  fact  which  makes  Damascus 
possible.  It  is  Syria  as  against  Israel  that  Naaman  praises. 
In  fierce  reaction  the  weary  and  disappointed  man  turns 
back  to  the  streams  that  were  his  home  and  childhood. 
He  remembers  "  those  wonderful  tropic  nights,  when  the 
whole  world  lies  in  a  silver  dream,  when  the  little  wander- 
ing airs  that  touch  your  cheek  like  a  caress  are  heavy 


DUTY  AND  PLEASURE  153 

with  the  scent  of  flowers,  and  your  heart  comes  into  your 
throat  for  the  very  beauty  of  life. ' '  His  home  and  child- 
hood— but  the  servant's  words  remind  him  that  he  has  no 
home,  no  childhood  any  more.  Abana  and  Pharpar  are 
already  flowing  beside  his  grave. 

In  reality  the  rivers  stood  for  types  of  a  still  wider  and 
more  eternal  contrast  than  that  between  the  lands.  For 
the  lands  themselves  were  typical.  The  contrast  is  be- 
tween the  brilliant  and  alluring  life  of  self-indulgence,  and 
the  life  of  duty  and  sacrifice  and  the  solemn  truths  of 
religion.  Put  it  at  its  worst,  and  set  the  witchery  of  the 
earth  over  against  the  dullness  of  heaven;  the  poignant 
beauty  of  life  over  against  the  chill  of  religion.  There 
come  times  in  every  life  when  the  choice  wears  just  that 
aspect,  and  yet  a  man  must  choose.  Which  will  you  take 
as  the  key  to  your  destiny,  and  treat  as  the  reality  for 
which  the  other  must  be  sacrificed  ? 

Let  us  examine  this  rivalry  for  a  little: — 
1.  The  Case  for  Damascus.  This  has  been  completely 
stated  in  the  beautiful  words,  "  Abana  and  Pharpar  also 
rose  in  the  hills  of  God."  Indeed  all  three  rivers  rise 
within  a  few  miles  of  each  other's  fountains,  in  the  regions 
of  Hermon  and  lower  Antilibanus.  Naaman  may  well 
have  remember  this,  and  asked  why  the  chance  circum- 
stance of  a  river's  flowing  north  or  south  should  determine 
the  healing  power  of  its  waters.  In  no  respect  was  one 
river  superior  to  the  other.  Jordan,  where  Naaman  would 
cross  it,  was  as  clear  and  sweet  as  Abana ;  and  if  Jordan 
never  reached  the  sea,  neither  did  the  rivers  of  Dam- 
ascus. 

And  as  it  was  with  the  rivers,  so  also  it  was  with  the 
ways  of  life  they  typified.  The  springs  of  joy  are  ever 
near  the  fountain  of  tears.  Gladness  has  no  more  neces- 
sary quarrel  with  conscience  than  sorrow  has.  The 
splendour  of  Damascus  is  ideally  as  divine  a  thing  as  the 


154  THINGS  ETERNAL 

naked  colourless  land  of  Israel.  In  a  word,  it  is  all  a 
question  of  temperaments  and  moods,  and  to  some  of  these 
Abana  is  frankly  more  congenial  than  Jordan.  The  world 
is  very  fair.  The  singers  of  its  beauty  are  convincing — 
Shelley  and  Swinburne  and  Rossetti  and  the  rest.  Science 
and  art,  commerce  and  industry,  work  and  pleasure — all 
these  stand  in  their  own  right,  pleading  the  brilliancy  of 
life,  its  promise  and  its  fulfilment  of  desire,  as  their  own 
justification.  These  ideals  are  so  intelligible,  so  present- 
able, so  interesting,  that,  to  confess  the  truth,  when  these 
are  at  their  height,  the  religious  alternative  often  appears 
utterly  dreary.  It  lacks  the  diablerie,  the  subtle  play  and 
magic,  of  the  world.  The  narrowness  of  the  way  of  Christ, 
and  the  unreasonable  bitterness  of  his  cross,  serve  only 
as  a  foil  to  the  delights  of  the  rival  way.  Some  attempt 
a  compromise  by  some  one  of  the  many  popular  ways  of 
blending  Christianity  with  self-indulgent  worldliness — 
ways  which  keep  nearer  the  earth  than  Christ,  and  so 
retain  something  of  earth's  glamour.  Some  boldly  con- 
front the  alternative  and  deliberately  choose  the  world. 

We  all  know  what  that  challenge  means — "  Renounce 
the  world.' '  But  is  not  the  world  good?  Have  not  the 
secular  and  the  sacred  common  springs  in  the  heart  of 
God?  Surely,  according  to  temperament,  men  may  decide 
for  themselves,  and  choose  the  way  that  each  finds  most 
congenial.  "Both  the  Greek  and  the  Hebrew  spirit  reach 
the  infinite,  the  Greek  spirit  by  beauty,  the  Hebrew  spirit 
by  sublimity." 

2.  The  Answer  of  Israel.  Much  of  all  this  pleading  may 
be  granted.  We  believe  in  life  and  we  love  it.  We  know 
quite  well  that  every  good  gift  and  every  perfect  gift 
cometh  down  from  the  Father  of  lights.  BUT — he  was  a 
leper.  This  is  not  a  question  of  general  excellence  and 
legitimacy,  but  a  question  of  power  to  cleanse  leprosy. 
When  it  comes  to  that,  Abana  is  as  useless  as  it  is  fair, 


DUTY  AND  PLEASURE  155 

and  Jordan  has  the  power  to  bring  a  man's  flesh  back  like 
the  flesh  of  a  little  child. 

There  are  facts  in  life  which  have  to  be  dealt  with, 
grim  facts  which  every  man  must  face  sooner  or  later. 
There  is  the  terror  as  well  as  the  beauty  of  the  world.  How 
does  Abana  deal  with  the  tragedy  of  disease,  and  misery, 
and  sin  ?  The  worship  of  Rimmon  takes  for  its  emblem  the 
pomegranate,  and  understands  well  the  luscious  powers  of 
nature  while  they  last.  But  summer  dies,  and  then  comes 
the  weeping  for  Adonis.  There  is  an  incurable  sadness  in 
nature  and  in  all  forms  of  nature-worship.  It  seems 
good  for  the  days  of  sunshine  and  of  health;  but  when 
bodies  grow  sick  and  hearts  are  broken  and  consciences 
on  fire  with  remorse,  it  is  futile  and  can  but  weep. 

Goethe  describes  the  ancients  as  feeling  themselves  at 
once  and  without  further  wanderings  at  ease  within  the 
limits  of  this  beautiful  world.  Marklin  says :  ' '  I  would 
with  all  my  heart  be  a  heathen,  for  here  I  find  truth,  na- 
ture, greatness/ '  The  answer  is  "  the  deep  suppressed 
melancholy  "  of  the  Greeks,  the  "  subtle  inextinguishable 
sadness  "  which  every  reader  of  their  literature  knows. 
Heine,  who  knew  and  loved  the  beauty  of  the  world  so 
well,  came  to  his  mattress-grave  at  last;  and  he  tells  how 
he  stretched  out  his  hands  to  the  Venus  he  had  worshipped. 
But  she  could  not  help  him :  her  arms  were  broken. 

We  are  not  taking  back  any  word  of  what  was  said 
for  the  charm  of  the  earth.  It  is  a  genuine  approach  to 
God,  but  it  is  irrelevant  and  ineffective  here.  We  are 
not  "  forcing  a  narrow  judgment  on  an  angry  or  a  laugh- 
ing world  " :  it  is  leprosy  that  is  forcing  it.  Men  must 
face  the  facts,  and  what  this  fact  needs  is  a  river  of  heal- 
ing waters  that  can  make  a  man  clean. 

It  all  comes  back  to  this  one  question — What  is  it  that 
you  want  from  God?  Is  it  but  a  few  fresh  mornings  and 
evenings  tender  with  beauty?  Or  is  it  the  healing  of  your 
soul's  disease  and  wound? 


156  THINGS  ETERNAL 

One  thing  I  of  the  Lord  desire, 

For  all  my  way  hath  miry  been; 
Be  it  by  water  or  by  fire, 

Lord,  make  me  clean. 

For  that  you  must  come  back  to  the  waters  of  Israel,  the 
"  fountain  opened  for  sin  and  for  uncleanness. ' '  Jesus 
Christ  is  the  master  of  realities,  and  there  is  no  point  of 
tragedy  at  which  He  fails  and  leaves  men  weeping.  He 
is  no  enemy  of  the  sunshine  or  the  sweetness  of  life,  but 
He  is  the  victor  over  its  terror.  And  for  us  there  can  be 
only  one  loyalty.  Either  we  must  throw  in  our  lot  with 
that  which  will  inevitably  fail  us,  or  with  Him  who  saves 
to  the  uttermost. 


OPINION  AND   KNOWLEDGE 

"Behold  I  thought  .  .  .  behold  now  I  know." — 2  Kings 

v.  11.  15. 

It  is  the  story  of  a  man  who  went  out  to  seek  for  a  magi- 
cian and  who  found  a  God,  exchanging  thoughts  for  knowl- 
edge. 

Naaman's  thoughts  are  enumerated  in  verse  11.  He 
had  rehearsed  the  scene  and  planned  out  all  its  detail. 
A  lordly  set  of  thoughts  they  were,  and  from  Naaman's 
standpoint  entirely  satisfactory  and  convincing.  The  one 
suspicious  element  is  the  completeness  of  the  programme. 
It  would  seem  as  if  it  were  not  God  but  Naaman  who 
was  arranging  this  cure. 

Behind  these  thoughts  of  his  lay  many  things.  First, 
his  military  training.  He  has  the  confidance  and  swag- 
gering arrogance  of  the  popular  general  of  an  oriental  king. 
He  has  the  soldier's  precision  in  thinking  out  schemes  of 
all  kinds.  His  system  is  exact,  detailed,  consistent,  thor- 
ough— only,  it  is  all  wrong.  "  Nothing  sits  worse  on  a 
fighting  man  than  too  much  knowledge/ '  it  has  been 
said,  "  except  perhaps  a  lively  imagination. ' '  In  dealing 
with  the  great  facts  of  life  and  death  we  have  to  put  away 
our  habit  of  command  and  our  delight  in  arrangement, 
and  to  accept  an  order  of  things  which  has  been  fixed 
without  our  being  consulted. 

Then  there  was  the  palace  life  of  Damascus.  In  those 
dreaming  oasis  cities  of  the  East,  men's  minds  are  drunk 
with  sun  and  blind  with  barbaric  splendour.    Life  is  half 

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158  THINGS  ETERNAL 

a  pageant  and  half  a  game,  in  which  the  magic  of  the 
desert  mingles  and  over  which  its  spell  is  cast.  All  these 
elements  are  here,  and  about  the  story  of  the  jingling  caval- 
cade and  the  costly  presents  there  is  the  scent  of  sandal- 
wood and  incense.  There  was,  indeed,  another  side  to 
Naaman.  The  affection  of  the  slave-girl,  and  the  friendly 
talk  of  the  orderlies,  show  a  kindly  and  humane  person- 
ality behind  the  mask  of  pomp  and  circumstance.  But, 
like  many  others,  he  puts  away  that  frank  human  nature 
when  dealing  with  religion,  and  the  figure  we  see  is  stiff 
with  the  brocade  of  ceremony. 

Also,  there  is  the  religion  of  Baal  Rimmon,  the  worship 
of  Nature  and  the  Sun.  This  worship  had  not  then  reached 
its  ideal  forms,  that  gave  rise  to  the  dreams  of  spiritual 
light  and  purity  which  fascinated  decadent  Rome  in  later 
centuries.  It  was  but  a  kind  of  sorcery,  the  most  advanced 
and  daring  phase  of  earthliness  masquerading  as  a  religion. 
It  was  a  religion  with  all  the  worship  eaten  out  of  it  by 
commerce  and  pride  and  superstition.  It  had  no  spiritual 
side  at  all — no  faith,  no  love,  no  obedience — but  only  a 
glorified  commercialism  and  the  spectacular  pride  of  life, 
in  which  an  elaborately  theatrical  healing  was  to  be  paid 
for  in  so  much  coin. 

Into  the  midst  of  thoughts  that  rose  out  of  these  things 
falls  the  leprosy.  The  world  which  Naaman 's  thoughts 
have  constructed  about  him  appears  fantastically  unreal 
then,  but  he  will  keep  up  appearances  hardily.  Whatever 
chilling  loneliness  may  have  invaded  his  soul  in  quiet  hours, 
yet  to  the  general  he  still  is  the  grand  seigneur,  indignant 
that  a  gentleman  like  him  should  have  to  conform  to  the 
rough  manners  of  the  land  of  Israel.  In  spite  of  the  lep- 
rosy, God  is  not  in  all  his  thoughts.  He  simply  desires  to 
utilize  a  local  divinity  and  enslave  him  for  a  price  paid. 

It  was  a  very  natural  way  of  thinking.  It  was  what 
he  had  been  accustomed  to,  and  what  every  one  else  about 


OPINION  AND  KNOWLEDGE  159 

him  thought.  He  was  constructing  God  out  of  his  educa- 
tion and  the  popular  opinions,  as  most  men  have  always 
done.  It  was  very  natural,  but  it  nearly  cost  him  his 
healing.  The  price  of  thoughts  is  easy  to  ignore,  but  it 
must  be  paid.  Countless  men  debar  themselves  from  all 
life's  highest  gifts  and  chances  simply  because  they  are 
so  set  in  their  own  opinions  that  they  refuse  to  change 
them,  or  even  to  consider  a  new  point  of  view.  No  class 
of  men  is  more  pathetic  than  that  of  those  who  tenaciously 
and  proudly  cling  to  ideas  of  their  own,  and  cannot  find 
healing  for  their  souls.  May  not  the  price  of  such  men's 
thoughts  be  too  high? 

Naaman's  knowledge  comes  to  him  with  a  rush  of  new 
thoughts,  supplanting  the  old.  These,  the  thoughts  of  a 
man  restored  from  a  loathsome  death  to  fresh  and  clean 
vitality,  we  may  well  imagine.  But  better  than  them  all 
was  a  new  knowledge.  Indeed  the  old  thoughts  were  not 
knowledge.  Keligious  and  secular  alike,  they  played  on 
the  surface  of  things.  But  there  had  come  one  command- 
ing certainty — There  is  a  God.  It  was  not  merely  a  new 
and  brilliant  thought  among  the  others.  It  was  a  grand 
certainty  founded  upon  experience.  Health  quivered 
through  every  nerve,  and  rushed  through  every  vein  of 
his  body,  and  the  healed  man  knew  the  touch  of  God.  It 
was  experience,  the  experience  of  healing,  that  brought 
him  knowledge.  The  curse  of  leprosy  had  not  done  this. 
It  had  only  added  other  thoughts,  more  bitter  but  not  more 
true,  than  the  former  ones.  But  God's  healing  had  done 
it,  for  that  is  the  convincing  thing  that  can  turn  thoughts 
into  knowledge. 

There  are  still  some  whose  religion  is  a  mere  set  of 
opinions,  promiscuously  gathered,  and  others  who  can 
say,  "  I  know  whom  I  have  believed."  And,  as  a  rule, 
it  is  not  misery  but  healing  grace  that  has  wrought  this 
change.     The  blind  man  of  Jerusalem  knew  not  this  or 


180  THINGS  ETERNAL 

that  of  the  opinions  that  men  tossed  to  and  fro  about 
Jesus.  But  one  thing  he  knew,  "  that  whereas  I  was 
blind  now  I  see. ' '  That  is  no  opinion,  but  absolute  knowl- 
edge given  by  experience.  A  man  knows  that  God  who 
has  pitied  his  misery  and  healed  his  disease. 

Let  us  turn  from  Naaman  to  ourselves,  and  see  the  same 
contrast  between  opinion  and  knowledge  which  he  found 
so  long  ago. 

Our  thoughts  are  a  strange  and  valuable  field  for  study. 
A  man's  opinions  rise  for  the  most  part  unconsciously  in 
him,  built  up  out  of  his  education,  his  prejudices,  his 
stray  reading,  his  intercourse  with  other  men,  and  his 
sense  of  the  spirit  of  the  age.  Some,  displeased  with  the 
confusion  of  opinion  within  them,  construct  a  system  which 
will  serve  for  a  more  or  less  elaborate  and  consistent  theory 
of  life.  Some  very  brilliant  constructions  of  this  sort  will 
come  to  every  reader's  mind:  for  this  is  a  time  in  which 
many  clever  men  have  felt  called  upon  to  announce  to 
us  their  newly  constructed  religious  systems.  We  are 
startled  by  the  novelty  of  every  page,  by  the  interest  and 
the  ingenuity  of  it  all.  These  men  are  evidently  world- 
builders,  creators  of  a  new  universe  which  is  no  doubt  in 
many  points  a  vast  improvement  on  this  one.  Only — it 
is  not  so.  Theirs  is  not  the  universe  we  have  to  live  in  and 
deal  with.  We  may  leave  them  alone  and  return  to  the 
consideration  of  our  own  opinions. 

There  are  several  sources  of  error  which  falsify  the 
opinions  of  the  ordinary  man.  (1)  We  do  not  know  all 
the  facts,  and  the  inadequate  basis  of  fact  stultifies  the 
whole.  Our  opinions  are  but  patchwork  theories  of  things, 
pieced  together  as  it  were  out  of  fragments  which  we  have 
overheard.  (2)  Self-will  intrudes  upon  our  thinking,  and 
we  come  to  believe  what  we  have  determined  shall  be  so. 
(3)  Desire,  with  its  thousand  earth-born  longings  and 
regrets,  forms  a  heated  and  delusive  atmosphere  about  the 


OPINION  AND  KNOWLEDGE  161 

mind,  in  which  things  are  not  as  they  seem.  (4)  Most  of 
us  are  tempted  by  consistency,  and  enjoy  system-building 
for  its  own  sake  apart  from  truth.  But  "  nothing  falsi- 
fies history  more  than  logic,"  and  when  the  facts  do  not 
tally  with  our  systems  of  things  as  they  ought  to  do, 
we  are  apt  to  cry  in  our  folly,  So  much  the  worse  for  the 
facts. 

So  we  build  up  and  dwell  in  that  cloud-castle  of  opinions 
which  we  call  our  thoughts.  It  lasts  until  some  specially 
powerful  fact,  like  this  of  leprosy,  comes  against  it.  Then 
all  our  calculations  are  upset.  Thought  falls  back  in 
ruins  before  the  impact  of  something  it  cannot  explain, 
and  further  thinking  "  can  only  serve  to  measure  the 
helplessness  of  thought. ' '  There  is  a  great  verse  in  Psalm 
cxrx.  113,  wrongly  translated  in  our  version  upon  whose 
real  meaning  and  mood  we  are  prone  to  fall  back  in  such 
an  hour — "  I  hate  thoughts." 

Our  knowledge  is  a  very  different  matter.  There  is, 
or  may  be,  such  a  thing  as  our  knowledge.  There  is 
much  that  can  be  actually  and  certainly  known  in  religion, 
and  our  minds  are  capable  of  receiving  and  resting  in  it. 
In  connexion  with  the  faith  we  hold,  there  are  many  opin- 
ions which  may  or  may  not  be  true,  but  it  is  not  all  like 
that.  There  are  men  and  women,  not  differing  in  appear- 
ance from  their  fellows,  who  yet  carry  with  them,  about 
these  familiar  streets  and  houses,  the  indisputable  knowl- 
edge of  some  of  the  most  profound  and  far-reaching  secrets 
of  the  universe.  This  knowledge  is  given  by  experience, 
and  is  "  subject  to  no  dispute."  It  is  futile  to  seek  to 
discover  the  secrets  of  the  furthest  heavens  with  your 
field-glass  of  opinions;  but  what  if  some  great  star  were 
to  swim  into  sight,  and  discover  itself  to  you?  So  many 
have  found  it  to  be.  While  they  were  speculating  among 
the  doctrines,  and  discussing  the  high-sounding  questions 
that  it  is  fashionable  to  ask  regarding  God  and  man,  God 


162  THINGS  ETERNAL 

Himself  came  to  them  in  their  hour  of  need,  and  they  knew 
His  coming  and  were  saved.  Before  that  memorable  ex- 
perience a  thousand  preconceived  opinions  flee  away,  and 
from  the  pride  of  thought  men  come  to  the  humility  of 
knowledge. 

This  is  no  disparagement  of  reason,  no  attack  on  reason- 
ing and  speculation.  It  is  rather  a  defence  of  it,  for  the 
danger  lies  not  in  thinking,  but  in  mismanaging  the  work 
of  thinking.  It  is  a  dangerous  game,  this  play  of  opinions, 
and  it  may  cost  a  man  very  dear.  Had  Naaman  adequately 
and  dispassionately  thought  out  the  situation,  he  would 
have  arrived  at  precisely  the  same  knowledge  which  ex- 
perience taught  him.  But  few  men  ever  do  thus  adequately 
deal  with  thought.  Their  opinions  rise,  as  we  have  seen, 
from  a  wrong  basis  and  upon  wrong  principles. 

But  let  a  man  deal  honestly  with  God  and  life,  laying 
his  soul  quite  open  to  whatever  power  and  love  there  be 
for  him  in  God.  Then,  as  the  mighty  hands  reach  down 
for  you,  draw  you  up  out  of  deep  waters,  set  you  on  a 
rock  of  firm  conviction  gained  not  by  speculation  but  by 
experience — then  you  will  know.  Your  opinions  about 
God  matter  little — your  thoughts  about  religion,  your 
arranged  programme,  your  predetermined  claim.  Much  of 
all  that  will  have  to  be  discarded,  all  of  it  will  have  to 
be  revised,  and  thought  will  more  frequently  discover  God 
by  its  failure  than  by  its  success.  But  bring  your  leprosy 
to  God,  and  let  us  see  Him  heal  it.  Bring  your  shame  and 
not  your  greatness ;  your  bewilderment  and  not  your  fash- 
ionable opinions;  your  confessed  folly  and  not  your  par- 
aded cleverness.  Then  need  will  find  Him  where  self- 
sufficiency  must  always  fail.  One  touch  of  healing — a  man- 
hood cleansed  and  wholesome  in  heart  and  imagination — 
sin  forgiven,  morbidness  gone,  freshness  and  freedom  and 
power  returned!  Behold  you  thought  this  and  that  and 
the  other  clever  and  ingenous  thing.  Behold  now  you 
know  that  your  Redeemer  liveth. 


THE   CHARACTER  OF   GEHAZI 

2  Kings  v.  15-27. 

In  the  group  of  stories  which  make  up  the  Scripture 
narrative  of  Elisha  there  is  much  that  is  perplexing  both 
to  the  historical  and  to  the  moral  sense.  But  whatever 
conclusion  we  arrive  at  as  to  the  admixture  of  historic 
and  lengendary  in  the  story,  one  thing  is  certain.  Through 
the  mist  of  years  there  looms  out  upon  us  a  live  man  and 
a  set  of  typical  and  eternal  human  truths.  No  one  ever 
invented  Elisha.  He  stands  clear  in  his  own  right,  as  in- 
disputable and  strongly  marked  a  character  as  ever  walked 
the  earth.  It  will  be  well  for  us  to  listen  to  the  story  as 
it  is  told,  that  we  may  discover  those  permanent  revela- 
tions of  human  life  and  character  in  which  it  is  so  rich. 

This  is  a  tale  of  three  men,  seen  against  a  background 
of  sweet  women  and  children.  The  three  represent  two 
extremes  and  Naaman  between  them,  a  wonderfully  inter- 
esting and  suggestive  man.  To-day  we  shall  consider 
especially  the  character  of  Gehazi,  the  extreme  and  almost 
unrelieved  type  of  the  wicked  man.  But  first  let  us  look 
for  a  little  at  the  opposite  extreme,  which  throws  him  into 
so  strong  a  light  of  contrast. 

Elisha. — There  are,  indeed,  two  sides  to  this  extraordi- 
nary figure.  His  lifelong  kindness  to  all  sons  of  the 
prophets,  and  the  stories  of  the  poor  women  of  Zarepta 
and  of  Shunem,  reveal  a  great  tenderness  beneath  his 
shaggy  simplicity.     Yet  his  usual  aspect  is  that  of  unre- 

(163) 


164  THINGS  ETERNAL 

lenting  sternness.  Some  of  the  tales  show  the  harshness 
of  a  pitiless  cruelty,  and  about  many  of  the  rest  there 
broods  an  uncanny  sense  of  occult  and  unkindly  power. 

In  this  story  he  appears  in  a  peculiarly  distant  and  for- 
mal aspect.  He  heals,  but  without  so  much  as  looking  at 
the  sick  man.  He  stands  utterly  apart,  and  repulses  all 
attempts  at  familiarity.  He  refuses  the  gifts  of  the  grate- 
ful Naaman,  and  has  no  word  of  guidance  for  him  in  his 
spiritual  perplexities.  The  whole  narrative  is  in  the  most 
violent  contrast  with  the  wealth  and  tenderness  of  sym- 
pathy for  human  suffering  in  which  Isaiah  abounds,  and 
in  still  stronger  contrast  with  the  way  of  Him  who  ' '  Him- 
self took  our  sicknesses. ' '  It  is  Jordan  and  not  Elisha 
that  takes  His  sickness  away  from  Naaman.  Nothing 
could  be  less  sympathetic  or  less  kindly  than  this  cold, 
immaculate,  and  patronizing  deed.  With  Naaman,  at  least, 
"  never  dares  the  man  put  off  the  prophet."  Austere, 
faultless  and  aloof,  he  plays  his  impersonal  part  in  the 
destinies  of  nations  and  the  lives  of  men,  white  and 
cold  as  snow,  a  bloodless  statute  of  righteousness. 

And  all  this  time  a  man  is  going  to  perdition  at  his  side. 
True,  he  is  a  very  inferior  man,  the  poorest  of  poor  char- 
acters perhaps — yet  a  man,  and  going  swiftly  to  ruin. 
Gehazi  is  shrewd  and  useful,  a  fellow  of  ready  wit,  who  can 
upon  occasions  show  remarkable  practical  sense.  He  can- 
not have  been  all  bad  and  always  bad.  He  is  evidently  a 
rather  commonplace  type  of  sinner,  who  could  understand 
his  master's  power  and  rough  strength,  but  not  any  finer 
or  more  spiritual  qualities.  He  is  self-important  and  more 
or  less  vain,  and  beneath  these  surface  characteristics 
there  is  a  strain  of  covetousness,  developing  into  a  beset- 
ting sin. 

And  ever,  at  his  side,  there  was  this  uncompromising 
whiteness,  this  unbending  and  unintelligible  goodness.  He 
was  one  of  those  who  would  have  needed  nursing  into  de- 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  GEHAZI  165 

cent  character.  He  had  not  good  taste  enough  to  see 
how  bad  the  things  were  that  he  did.  No  doubt  every  man 
is  responsible  for  himself  to  his  Maker,  and  yet  something 
might  have  been  made  of  such  a  man  by  a  little  human 
sympathy.  He  was  so  weak,  beside  one  so  strong,  and 
in  part  at  least  his  ruin  was  Elisha's  fault.  To  watch 
a  commonplace  man  degenerate  into  a  criminal  and  then 
to  curse  him,  is  hardly  the  whole  of  any  righteous  man's 
duty.  The  voluble  abuse  of  verse  26  is  all  very  well.  But 
as  we  see  the  poor  creature  shrinking  under  its  lashes  in 
fear  and  astonishment,  we  cannot  but  ask  whether  that  was 
all  that  could  have  been  done.  Purity  is  good,  but  it  is  not 
enough.  Purity  should  be  pitiful  as  well  as  pure.  Other- 
wise its  very  whiteness  may  drive  a  man  beside  it  to  his 
doom.  There  is  a  righteousness  that  saves  and  the  right- 
eousness that  saves  is  that  which  is  mingled  with  compas- 
sion. 

Gehazi. — This  is  that  figure  of  unrelieved  black  which 
contrasts  with  every  decent  character  in  the  whole  tale. 
We  know  little  of  him,  and  it  is  easy  to  say  too  much. 
Yet  this  seems  clear,  that  his  is  the  tragedy  of  a  man  ruined 
by  familiarity  with  sacred  things. 

The  story  puts  in  the  forefront  the  crime  of  covetous- 
ness.  There  is  an  immense  quantity  of  silver,  and  ten 
holiday  suits,  presumably  such  silken  garments  as  are  still 
seen  flashing  their  many  coloured  brilliance  in  the  streets 
of  Damascus.  If  the  prophet  has  no  use  for  such  things, 
his  vain  servant  has.  The  refusal  is  incredible;  all  the 
oracles  of  the  nations  expected  gifts.  The  man's  commer- 
cial instincts  are  in  despair  at  such  unheard  of  waste  of 
chances.  He  loses  his  head  altogether,  and  pleads  the 
coming  of  two  poor  students  as  a  sudden  necessity  for 
two  of  those  incongruous  robes  of  silk,  and  silver  to  the 
value  of  some    £400  sterling. 

It  was  of  course  the  most  transparent  sort  of  lie,  explain- 


166  THINGS  ETERNAL 

able  only  by  the  veriest  infatuation  of  greed.  With  more 
forcible  reason  than  the  oriental's  love  of  buried  treasure, 
he  hurries  his  spoil  off  to  a  strong  and  secret  hiding  place 
known  as  the  Tower  on  the  Hill.  Lie  after  lie  comes  to 
cover  his  fault  in  the  swift  chase  of  retribution,  until  the 
abject  soul  of  him  is  like  a  hunted  thing,  fleeing  before  that 
terrible  spirit  that  has  outwitted  his  cunning  as  Prospero 
outwits  Caliban  in  the  play.  Then  come  the  dreadful  words 
of  doom  that  turn  him  to  a  living  sarcasm,  the  white 
leprosy  covering  the  black  falsehood  of  the  heart;  and  he 
crawls  back  to  that  Tower  to  look  upon  his  silk  and  his 
silver,  and  to  gaze  desperately  down  the  tainted  line  of 
his  posterity. 

The  obvious  immediate  lesson  is  concerning  covetousness. 
There  is  a  limit  to  the  honourable  possibilities  of  making 
money,  and  when  that  limit  is  crossed,  wealth  is  but 
leprosy  that  goes  on  through  the  inheriting  generations, 
until  a  man's  children's  children  may  cry  for  clean  poverty 
again,  rather  than  this  plague. 

Such  was  his  besetting  sin.  But  a  careful  reading  of 
his  whole  record  will  show  that  it  lay  in  a  character  other- 
wise of  little  worth.  His  loquacious  vanity  is  everywhere 
evident.  His  self-importance  gives  the  impression  of  a 
proprietory  right  in  his  famous  master.  His  hardness 
and  want  of  compassion  render  him  something  of  the  bully 
in  stories  like  that  of  the  Shunammite.  Such  poor  vices 
exhibit  a  low  strain  of  character,  in  the  depths  of  which 
his  dominant  vice  of  greed  flows  on  and  gathers  volume. 
At  the  moment  of  this  incident,  the  tragedy  of  degenera- 
tion is  complete.  Granting  that  his  nature  has  never  been 
one  of  any  sensitiveness  or  refinement,  yet  it  is  evident 
it  has  reached  a  quite  phenomenal  bluntness  now.  Even 
as  a  mere  matter  of  politics,  when  the  diplomatic  relations 
of  Syria  and  Israel  hung  on  a  hair-trigger  as  they  did 
then,  such  an  action  was  sheer  madness.     For  so  shrewd 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  GEHAZI  167 

a  man,  nothing  but  the  blindness  of  a  master  passion  could 
explain  so  manifest  a  blunder.  Still  more  striking  is  the 
spiritual  dullness  of  perception.  He  has  the  honour  of  the 
prophet  of  the  living  God  in  his  hands,  but  that  is  swept 
by  the  board.  He  has  just  seen  the  most  wonderful  thing 
in  all  the  world,  the  dawn  of  faith  in  a  human  soul; 
but  the  only  impression  which  that  has  left  with  him  is  the 
fancied  vision  of  himself  clad  in  coloured  silk.  Neither 
the  sneers  of  Damascus  at  Elisha,  nor  the  effect  on  Naa- 
man  's  new-born  faith,  are  remembered.  These  Damascenes 
had  seen  and  wondered  at  a  nobler  man  than  they  had 
known,  a  man  uninfluenced  by  all  that  men  most  prize. 
This  had  dragged  him  down,  and  stolen  from  them  their 
one  ideal.  Damascus  made  no  such  fine  pretences,  yet  it 
would  hardly  stoop  to  meanness  such  as  this;  and,  after 
all,  honour  is  better  than  spirituality ! 

Such  is  the  i '  devastating  power  of  an  idolatry  ' '  to 
quench  one  by  one  the  lights  of  the  soul.  The  degenerate 
darkened  spirit  of  the  passion-driven  is  infinitely  danger- 
ous. He  has  no  pity  on  the  souls  of  men,  no  loyalty  to 
their  good  name.  And  so  we  see  this  victim  of  his  own 
evil  nature,  become  the  blow-fly  settling  on  one  of  the 
finest  stories  in  literature;  the  ape  in  the  sanctuary,  who 

Swings  by  his  irreverent  tail 
All  over  the  most  holy  place. 

How,  then,  has  this  tragedy  come  to  pass  ?  For  evidently 
the  last  barriers  are  down,  and  there  is  no  restraint  of 
reverence  or  awe,  but  only  the  easy  stride  of  self-suffi- 
ciency, swinging  along  among  the  most  tremendous  myster- 
ies, and  a  base  passion  let  loose  without  restraint. 

Every  one  knows  the  answer  of  the  man  on  the  street, 
then  and  now.  "  Oh,"  he  would  laugh,  "  the  nearer  the 
church  the  farther  from  grace."     And  in  that  answer 


168  THINGS  ETERNAL 

there  is  a  very  terrible  and  searching  truth.  All  contact 
with  holy  things  is  inevitably  of  the  nature  of  a  crisis: 
familiarity  with  them  is  dangerous  and  exacting.  It  is 
the  old  danger  of  touching  the  ark  of  God ;  it  is  the  danger 
which  Meredith  sees  still  when  he  sings: — 

Enter  these  enchanted  woods,  ye  who  dare. 
When  the  first  touch  of  awe  is  on  the  man,  let  him  take  a 
thorough  dealing  with  his  soul,  for  if  he  surrender  it  not 
then  to  God  he  will  surely  mortgage  it  to  the  devil.  All 
the  supreme  experiences  of  life  have  this  quality  of  crisis. 
At  every  point  where  a  man  feels  himself  brought  face  to 
face  with  any  high  trust  or  responsibility,  with  any  deep 
sorrow  or  affection,  above  all  when  Jesus  Christ  confronts 
a  man,  and  he  has  to  say  Yea  or  Nay  to  the  great  ques- 
tion of  his  life,  there  has  come  for  him  the  awful  hour  of 
fate.  Let  him  pass  through  such  a  moment  slightly,  and 
the  sequel  is  sure.  He  will  become  accustomed  to  the  most 
awful  and  exalted  thoughts,  and  then  he  will  despise 
them.  His  will  be  but  the  scene-shifter's  view  of  the 
play,  looking  down  on  the  backs  of  the  actors,  and  seeing 
nothing  to  thrill  his  spirit.  Doubtless  prophets  are  but 
men,  and  there  are  many  things  in  the  best  of  them  to 
criticize.  Doubtless  all  supreme  experiences,  of  respon- 
sibility or  sorrow  or  love,  have  some  earthly  elements  in 
them  easy  to  disparage.  But  the  God  whom  the  prophets 
serve  and  represent,  however,  faultily,  is  a  consuming  fire. 
We  are  face  to  face  with  a  very  terrible  fact  here.  All 
ministers  especially,  and  all  who  engage  in  work  about 
religion  and  its  ordinances,  must  surely  stand  in  awe  of 
the  dangers  of  familiarity.  Yet  this  is  a  danger  also  for 
all  who  habitually  hear  or  read  or  think  of  holy  things,  or 
handle  them  in  the  Sacraments.  If  faith  be  shallow  and 
love  half-hearted,  if  the  wonder  of  this  approach  be  not 
day  by  day  renewed,  and  all  rival  passions  that  war  against 
the  soul  suppressed,  then  will  come  the  sure  vengeance 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  GEHAZI  169 

of  sacred  things  profaned,  and  familiarity  will  sink  into 
contempt.  But  familiarity  needs  not  thus  to  sink.  If  the 
soul's  surrender  be  complete,  the  wonder  will  not  only 
last  but  will  increase,  and  each  day  of  sacred  service  will 
break  with  the  freshness  of  a  new  revelation.  For  the 
treasures  of  faith  are  inexhaustible,  and  the  returns  of 
God  to  the  faithful  are  fresh  as  the  dew  of  each  new 
morning. 


GOD'S  COMPROMISE  WITH  MAN 

"Two  mules'  burden  of  earth." — 2  Kings  v.  17. 

The  figure  of  Naaman  is  set  in  strong  contrast  with  those 
of  Elisha  and  Gehazi.  These  two  are  extreme  types  of 
austerity  and  sordidness.  They  move  within  the  narrow 
lines  of  their  limitations,  uncompromising  and  therefore 
simple.  Naaman  stands  apart,  courtier  and  man  of  the 
world,  in  touch  and  sympathy  with  the  breadth  of  human 
life.  His  is  a  pleasant  figure,  like  his  name  which  means 
Pleasantness.  He  is  such  a  representative  gentleman  of 
Damascus  as  we  meet  in  the  pages  of  Tancred.  Everything 
we  read  of  him  is  attractive,  and  characteristic  of  "  a 
good  fellow  and  a  dashing  officer."  The  frank  manner, 
the  generous  heart  that  is  not  without  its  touch  of  hot 
temper,  the  ready  gratitude  and  the  warm  friendships, 
make  a  wholly  lovable  and  delightful  sketch  of  the  man. 
It  is  for  such  men  that  questions  of  casuistry  and  com- 
promise arise,  making  life  at  once  difficult  and  fascinating. 
It  was  a  comparatively  easy  matter  for  Elisha  and  Gehazi 
to  go  on  their  ways — the  one  "  splendidly  unhindered," 
the  other  vulgarly  unscrupulous.  But  Naaman  is  by  far 
the  most  interesting  of  the  trio.  It  is  true  that  our  ideas  of 
him  are  more  or  less  conjectural.  We  know  few  of  the 
facts  and  circumstances  of  his  life.  We  have  to  divest 
ourselves  of  many  ideas  and  associations  before  we  can 
get  back  to  where  he  stood.  Yet  it  is  evident  that  there 
are  always  some  whose  contact  with  Jehovah  sends  them 

(170) 


GOD'S  COMPROMISE  WITH  MAN  171 

to  the  desert,  and  others  whom  it  sends  back  into  the  world, 
and  that  Naaman  is  in  the  latter  class.  Jnst  because  he 
returns  to  the  world,  we  see  him  moving  on  a  wider  and 
more  perplexing  field.  He  finds  himself  "  on  the  danger- 
ous edge  of  things, "  where  he  has  to  face  practical  ques- 
tions of  far  greater  subtlety  than  those  which  confront 
such  men  as  the  other  two.  Even  in  the  space  of  the  short 
narrative  before  us  we  find  what  may  be  called  a  double 
compromise  between  God  and  man.  In  the  present  study 
we  shall  consider  the  first  of  these  compromises,  in  the 
next  the  second. 

The  request  for  two  mules'  burden  of  earth  may  be  con- 
sidered as  God's  compromise  with  man.  It  arose  out  of 
an  idolatrous  superstition.  Among  the  Semites  it  was  the 
universal  custom  to  regard  each  god  as  attached  to,  and 
limited  by,  the  land  where  he  was  worshipped.  Conse- 
quently the  very  earth  and  stones  of  that  land  were  suffi- 
cient to  draw  the  god  to  the  prayer  of  a  worshipper ;  and 
they  were  necessary,  for  only  on  some  part  of  his  own 
land  could  he  act.  Other  earth  was  looked  after  by  other 
gods.  Thus,  among  those  tribes,  not  only  did  the  saints, 
but  the  gods  themselves  "  take  pleasure  in  her  stones," 
and  "  her  very  dust  to  them  was  dear." 

It  is  easy  to  denounce  this,  as  Matthew  Henry  does 
in  his  antithetic  way — "  He  had  spoken  lightly  of  the 
waters  of  Israel,  and  now  he  overvalues  the  earth  of 
Israel."  Yet  the  story  does  not  say  that  the  request  was 
refused,  and  we  gather  that  it  was  conceded.  It  was  a 
heathen  superstition,  and  yet  like  other  heathen  supersti- 
tions it  expressed  a  deep  and  abiding  human  instinct  be- 
hind the  error.  In  later  times  a  Jewish  synagogue  was 
raised  by  Jews  in  Persia,  all  of  whose  stones  and  earth  had 
been  brought  from  Jerusalem.  Soil  from  the  Holy  Land 
was  brought  in  the  Middle  Ages  for  the  Campo  Santos  of 
Italy :  and  it  is  a  very  pathetic  picture  that  is  presented 


172  THINGS  ETERNAL 

by  those  old-fashioned  ships  carrying  earth  across  the  seas 
for  the  covering  of  the  beloved  dead. 

The  whole  question  of  relics,  and  of  such  aids  to  devo- 
tion as  the  skull  or  the  crucifix,  is  raised  by  this  ancient 
practice.  Some  of  these  aids  may  become  dangerous. 
They  are  liable  to  abuse,  and  may  have  to  be  discarded. 
Men  may  transfer  their  worship  from  their  God  to  the 
sacred  earth,  or  even  to  the  mules  that  carried  it,  and  so 
reverence  may  become  idolatry  of  a  very  primitive  type. 

Yet  this  question  runs  far  deeper  than  any  dispute  as 
to  form  and  ceremony  between  Roman  Catholic  and  Pro- 
testant worshippers.  All  alike  feel  that  the  great  trial 
to  faith  and  the  supreme  difficulty  of  worship  lie  in  the 
intangibility  of  the  object  of  faith  and  worship.  God  and 
His  spiritual  life  are  so  withdrawn  and  so  elusive,  that 
at  times  they  seem  remote  from  our  common  life  and 
inaccessible.  The  woman  of  Samaria  spoke  for  humanity 
when  she  asked  her  question  as  to  where  man  ought  to 
worship.  The  answer  of  Jesus  forbade  neither  the  moun- 
tain nor  Jerusalem,  but  only  insisted  that  worship  must 
not  be  in  ignorance — we  must  know  what  we  worship.  For 
Himself,  He  used  both  the  mountain  and  the  temple  for 
His  worship;  and  we  may  take  it  that  for  each  intelli- 
gent worshipper  that  way  is  legitimate  and  best  which 
makes  worship  easiest  and  most  satisfying  for  him. 

There  is  no  escape  from  this  question.  Those  churches 
and  sects  which  are  farthest  removed  from  ritual  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  word,  illustrate  it  in  their  own  way 
quite  as  clearly  as  the  churches  against  which  they  protest. 
Such  sects  usually  begin  in  some  critical  hour,  when  the 
faith  has  come  into  bondage  of  some  sort,  and  the  mules 
are  labouring  and  heavy  laden  with  their  burdens  of  earth. 
Then  the  spirit  of  freedom  comes  upon  men,  and  in  some 
great  testimony  they  break  away  and  worship  apart  from 
the    old    associations.      Afterwards    circumstances    may 


GOD'S   COMPROMISE   WITH  MAN  173 

change,  and  the  testimony  may  become  obsolete  or  unim- 
portant, yet  the  sect  lives  on.  Associations  gather  round 
the  places  where  men  have  spent  their  childhood,  and 
learned  to  worship ;  where  their  fathers  have  made  history, 
and  created  great  loyalties.  Such  a  place  becomes  veritable 
terra  santa,  holy  ground,  to  the  reverent  spirit,  and  it 
needs  a  very  powerful  conviction  of  duty  necessitated  by 
the  new  developments,  to  bring  men  so  accustomed  to 
worship  to  change  or  break  away. 

But  the  problem  runs  still  deeper  into  the  individual 
life,  and  raises  the  whole  question  of  the  blending  of  human 
elements  with  divine  in  religion.  Nothing  which  involves 
such  strong  emotions  as  those  produced  by  religion  can 
fail  to  waken  responsive  notes  from  the  varied  and  sensi- 
tive strings  of  our  human  hearts.  Our  earthly  life,  with 
its  tender  loves,  and  its  poignant  regrets  and  longings,  is 
very  dear  to  us.  Inevitably  elements  of  human  affection, 
and  countless  old  memories  and  dear  associations,  mingle 
with  even  our  most  spiritual  hours  of  worship.  There  has, 
indeed,  been  a  lamentable  and  persistent  attempt  in  all  the 
Christian  centuries  to  divorce  the  two,  and  to  treat  God's 
love  and  human  love  as  rivals.  Thomas  k  Kempis  plainly 
tells  us,  ' '  Thou  oughtest  to  be  so  dead  to  such  affections  of 
beloved  friends,  that  (so  far  as  thou  art  concerned)  thou 
wouldst  choose  to  be  without  all  human  sympathy."  And 
many  a  bitter  story  of  meaningless  and  uncalled-for  sacri- 
fice has  saddened  the  records  of  religious  life.  But  the 
whole  attempt  to  untwist  the  threads  of  human  and  divine 
is  a  huge  mistake.  "  What  God  hath  joined  together,  let 
not  man  put  asunder."  Worship,  stripped  of  all  early 
affections,  is  not  for  us.  It  is  our  part  to  take  life  as  we 
find  it,  and  worship  God  by  what  help  we  best  can.  Surely 
the  reverent  worshipper  with  his  crucifix  is  better  than  the 
superior  person  who  has  got  rid  of  all  such  superstitions 
only  to  stand  dumb  before  the  shrine  with  all  power  of 


174  THINGS  ETERNAL 

worship  dead  in  him.  Still  more  surely  it  is  better  for 
every  man  to  see  God  in  the  light  of  beloved  human  eyes, 
than  to  stand  alone  in  a  desolated  world,  trying  to  flog 
up  into  vitality  his  purely  spiritual  emotions. 

We  judge  from  the  story  that  this  concession  was  made 
to  the  Syrian  worshipper.  And  still  and  for  ever  God 
does  consent  to  meet  men  where  they  are,  and  to  accept 
such  worship  as  they  can  best  bring.  It  is  good  for  all 
of  us  that  it  is  so,  for  none  of  all  our  ways  of  worship 
are  in  the  least  degree  adequate  to  express  either  our  souls 
or  Him.  None  of  our  doctrines,  none  of  our  forms  or 
organizations,  are  more  than  faulty  compromises  at  the 
best,  and  yet  God  consents  to  reveal  Himself  to  man 
through  these. 

The  Sacraments  are  a  standing  proof  of  this.  Water 
and  bread  and  wine  are  in  all  truth  far  enough  from  being 
adequate  expressions  of  regeneration  and  atonement.  Yet 
Christ  reveals  these  greatest  truths  through  their  humble 
means.  Nay,  the  Incarnation  itself  is  the  grand  concession 
made  by  the  spirit  to  the  flesh,  in  which  God  chose  to  reveal 
His  own  infinite  love  and  grace  in  such  a  form  that  men 
might  understand  these  while  they  saw  and  heard  and 
gazed  upon  and  handled  the  dear  body  of  Christ. 

Let  us  take  all  the  help  we  can  from  our  human  life 
and  love.  Let  us  accept  any  guidance,  however  humble, 
that  leads  us  to  the  Father.  It  may  indeed  be  expedient 
in  special  circumstances  that  even  a  man's  worship  should 
deny  itself  some  help  and  suffer  some  loss  of  vividness, 
when  an  aid  to  it  would  be  a  public  danger  or  a  stumbling- 
block  to  others.  But  except  in  such  circumstances,  God 
will  not  grudge  a  worshipper  any  means  of  grace,  so  long 
as  he  worships  not  that,  but  Him. 


MAN'S  COMPROMISE  WITH  GOD 

"The  house  of  Rimmon." — 2  Kings  v.  18. 

The  House  of  Rimmon  presents  a  different  and  a  more 
complex  situation  than  the  two  mules'  burden  of  earth. 
The  phrase  has  become  the  very  synonym  for  religious 
compromise,  and  prejudices  the  case  from  the  outset. 
To  judge  the  matter  justly,  it  is  necessary  to  get  as  clear 
an  idea  as  possible  of  what  this  worship  actually  was. 

The  city  of  Damascus  contains  to-day  but  few  very 
ancient  ruins.  It  is  in  the  life  of  the  streets  rather  than 
in  the  stones  of  temples  that  it  is  the  oldest  city  in  the 
world.  Its  great  Mosque  covers  a  site  which  has  seen  an 
amazing  succession  of  changes  in  worship.  It  rises  upon 
the  lower  walls  and  gateways  of  the  Christian  Church  of 
Theodosius.  That  Church  in  its  turn  rose  upon  the  ruins 
of  a  Roman  temple,  of  which  only  one  facade  now  stands, 
grey  and  weather-beaten  amid  the  newer  building.  In  all 
probability  that  Roman  temple  rose  upon  the  site  of  the 
far  more  ancient  worship  of  the  local  Baal,  the  Rimmon 
of  this  text. 

It  may  well  be  that  these  successive  architectures  are 
typical  of  the  easy  changes  of  faith  in  a  city  whose  heart 
has  always  been  commercial  rather  than  religious.  It  is 
probable  that  even  in  ancient  times  only  the  ignorant  would 
take  seriously  the  stories  of  the  gods,  while  the  educated 
and  cultured  would  be  sceptical.    In  any  case  we  know 

(175) 


176  THINGS  ETERNAL 

that  the  religion  of  the  Semites  was  a  religion  not  of  creed 
but  of  ritual,  and  that  to  an  extent  which  our  Western 
minds  find  it  all  but  impossible  to  realize.  Ceremonial 
performance  was  the  one  essential  feature ;  its  meaning  was 
of  literally  no  importance  whatever.  Worshippers  made 
no  attempt  to  speculate  as  to  why  they  did  this  or  that,  or 
as  to  what  facts  lay  behind  the  performance . 

If,  however,  we  insist  on  pushing  the  inquiry  back,  and 
asking  what  general  ideas  lay  behind  the  rites,  we  shall 
find  in  the  main  two  sets  of  such  ideas : — 

1.  The  World  and  Nature. — Rimmon  was  one  of  the 
many  Baals,  and  Baal  in  general  was  the  apotheosis  of 
the  fructifying  powers  of  nature.  In  later  times  the  cult 
was  connected  with  that  of  Adonis,  the  story  of  the  year, 
the  summer  triumph  and  the  winter  death  of  the  sun. 
The  Baals  were  lords  of  the  wind  and  weather,  the  rain 
and  sunshine,  the  air  and  clouds,  the  thunder  and  storm. 
Especially  was  Baal  the  sun  god,  source  of  the  abundance 
of  light  and  heat,  that  led  the  seeds  to  ripeness  in  the 
fertile  earth.  The  name  Rimmon,  signifying  the  pome- 
granate, has  the  suggestion  of  all  this  in  its  luscious  full- 
ness, and  is  peculiarly  appropriate  for  the  divinity  that 
presided  over  the  sweet  and  rich  life  of  Damascus.  So 
this  "prince  of  the  power  of  the  air"  stood  for  nature 
and  the  life  of  the  earth.  The  cult  was  not  so  much  a 
worship,  as  an  appreciation  of  the  world  in  all  its  fullness. 
God,  to  the  Damascus  worshipper,  was  "the  view" — He 
was  anything  a  man  liked. 

2.  Nationality  and  Patriotism. — Rimmon  was  the  par- 
ticular Baal  of  Demascus,  and  the  ritual  had  a  large  ele- 
ment of  politics  in  it.  Worship  was  not  a  matter  of  private 
faith  any  more  than  it  was  a  matter  of  spiritual  com- 
munion. It  was  essentially  a  civic  and  national  act.  The 
gods  were  representative  members  of  the  nation,  and  their 
worship  was  official  and  political  in  its  significance,  in- 


MAN'S  COMPROMISE  WITH  GOD  177 

volving  before  all  else  loyalty  to  the  throne  and  gustoms 
of  the  land. 

Taking  these  two  sets  of  ideas  together,  we  are  better 
able  to  understand  Naaman's  position.  Here,  in  the  house 
of  Rimmon,  was  the  world  in  two  aspects.  (1)  The  green 
earth,  the  joy  of  life,  its  sensuous  beauty  and  fullness. 
(2)  The  national  loyalty,  the  public  office  and  service  of 
a  courtier.  So  the  question  that  faced  him  was,  whether 
he  would  retire  from  a  world  into  asceticism  and  private 
life,  or  whether  he  would  remain  in  the  world  and  serve 
Jehovah.  He  no  longer  worshipped  the  world,  for  he  had 
looked  beyond  it  and  seen  the  face  of  God.  But  he  still 
appreciated  its  charm,  and  he  still  enjoyed  its  labours. 
He  chose  the  latter  course.  As  to  the  detail  of  ritual,  we 
can  imagine  him  saying  to  himself  that  a  God  so  great 
in  healing  would  be  great  also  in  understanding,  so  that 
the  act  of  compromise  was  in  one  way  an  act  of  faith. 

Thus  the  story  leads  us  up  to  the  general  question  of 
compromise.  Obviously  there  are  all  sorts  of  compromises, 
good  and  bad;  and  the  more  complex  society  becomes  the 
more  frequently  such  problems  arise.  Three  tests  may  be 
given,  by  which  the  legitimacy  of  compromise  may  be 
judged  :— 

1.  Playing  two  games — the  compromise  which  involves 
self-deception.  The  change  from  one  religion  to  another 
has  often  been  marked  by  a  lingering  faith  in  the  older 
gods  continuing  to  exist  alongside  the  new  faith.  It  is 
thus  that  some  scholars  explain  the  mouse  of  Apollo,  the 
owl  of  Minerva,  and  other  such  relics.  The  new  and  more 
splendid  company  of  divinities  had  supplanted  the  old 
totem  worship  of  mice  and  owls :  but  after  all  there  might 
have  been  something  in  that  lowly  worship,  and  it  would 
be  as  well  not  to  neglect  it  altogether.  But  here  we  have  a 
different  case.  There  is  no  lingering  belief  or  suspicion 
of  belief  in  Rimmon.    Probably  there  had  been  little  intel- 


178  THINGS  ETERNAL 

ligent  or  confident  faith  to  begin  with,  and  now  there 
was  none  at  all.  The  new  God  had  swept  clean  away  all 
remnants  of  the  obsolete  Baal. 

Such  compromise  as  this  double  devotion  is  sometimes 
seen,  and  it  is  always  absolutely  wrong.  Some  professing 
Christians  are  not  quite  certain  in  their  hearts  that  their 
Christian  faith  is  true,  and  they  never  let  go  their  hold 
on  Mammon  though  they  adopt  the  faith  of  Christ.  There 
is  an  unexpressed  caution  about  such  people,  which  assures 
them  that  they  will  be  making  the  best  of  things  in  any 
case.  It  is  the  danger  of  Pascal's  argument  that  faith 
will  pay  best  in  the  end  whether  it  prove  true  or  false, 
and  in  mean  souls  this  becomes  the  incentive  to  a  double 
life.  But  God  will  have  no  such  divided  allegiance.  His 
worshippers  must  let  go  all  their  second  strings,  and 
swing  themselves  boldly  out  on  the  great  venture  of  faith. 
Let  it  be  the  finding  of  God  or  the  loss  of  all  things — there 
is  no  room  for  compromise. 

2.  Pretence — the  compromise  which  is  intended  to  de- 
ceive others.  Naaman  had  settled  that  by  his  two  mules' 
burden  of  earth.  It  would  be  impossible  to  conceal  such  an 
act,  nor  would  his  frank  nature  wish  to  leave  anyone  in 
doubt  as  to  his  religious  position.  The  attendance  at  the 
House  of  Rimmon  would  deceive  no  one.  All  Damascus 
knew  what  God  Naaman  worshipped. 

Obviously  no  compromise  is  tolerable  which  is  adopted 
with  a  view  to  deceive  men.  There  is  indeed  a  limit  to  the 
amount  of  consideration  which  must  be  given  to  possible 
misunderstandings.  If  the  construction  which  every  fool 
or  weakling  may  put  upon  our  conduct  is  to  be  taken  into 
consideration  at  every  turn,  then  the  fool  and  the  weak 
brother  have  become  tyrants  over  the  lives  of  better  men 
than  themselves,  a  tyranny  which  no  self-respecting  man 
will  endure.  With  much  of  our  lives,  our  neighbors  have 
no  business  whatsoever,  and  it  need  give  us  little  concern 


MAN'S  COMPROMISE  WITH  GOD  179 

if  interfering  outsiders  misconstrue  our  actions.  It  is 
certainly  never  worth  a  compromise  with  honesty  to  save 
our  reputation.  Either  let  men  misjudge  you  as  they 
please,  if  the  end  to  be  gained  is  worth  that  cost;  or  if 
you  value  their  good  opinion,  earn  it  honestly  by  denying 
yourself  what  they  will  misunderstand. 

3.  Deliberate  Sacrifice  of  Bight  to  Wrong. — Men's  at- 
tempt to  deceive  God.  When  a  sin,  acknowledged  to  be 
such,  is  yet  allowed  on  some  specious  plea  of  doing  evil 
that  good  may  come;  when  pleasure  is  taken  at  the  cost 
of  what  seems  but  a  slight  wound  to  conscience,  or  gain 
at  the  cost  of  a  slight  sacrifice  of  principle ;  we  have  come 
upon  very  dangerous  ground.  Life  is  far  too  complex  for 
our  meddling  with  its  moralities,  and  neither  any  pleasure 
nor  any  gain  is  worth  the  risk  of  nature's  subtle  and  sur- 
prising vengeance.  Nothing  more  surely  brings  on  degen- 
eration than  such  tampering  with  ethics  and  living  delib- 
erately below  one's  best  lights.  Those  who  do  so  come 
to  have  the  very  hall-mark  of  the  unsatisfied  and  the  in- 
effective upon  them,  and  are  rejected  both  by  God  and 
Satan.  No!  we  are  not  the  captain  of  this  ship:  let  us 
steer  by  the  course  that  has  been  set. 

To  return  to  the  story,  Naaman  does  not  appear  to  have 
fallen  under  the  condemnation  of  any  such  unworthy  com- 
promises as  these.  On  the  contrary,  he  appears  as  a 
very  memorable  gentleman,  taking  a  man's  risks  and 
responsibilities  in  a  very  difficult  situation;  trying  to  do 
right,  and  on  the  whole  succeeding.  No  one  can  think 
of  him  without  recalling  Tom  Brown's  judgment,  "I  can't 
stand  that  fellow  Naaman,  after  what  he'd  seen  and  felt, 
going  back  and  bowing  himself  down  in  the  House  of 
Rimmon.  ...  I  wonder  Elisha  took  the  trouble  to  heal 
him."  Who  does  not  honour  the  boy  and  thank  God  for 
him  ?  And  yet  the  matter  is  not  so  easy  as  that,  and  when 
Tom  comes  to  face  a  man's  difficulties  he  will  find  that 


\ 


180  THINGS  ETERNAL 

the  short  cut  is  not  always  the  true  solution,  but  may 
sometimes  be  only  a  refusal  to  face  all  the  facts.  There 
are  illegitimate  compromises  as  we  have  seen,  but  there 
are  also  wise  and  good  ones,  which  may  save  conscience 
from  growing  pedantic,  and  lives  which  might  have  ac- 
complished something  from  being  wasted  over  trifles  not 
worthy  of  them.  They  may  save  men  also  from  the  in- 
ordinate vanity  of  those  who  imagine  that  to  shout  "No 
compromise"  is  to  secure  a  monopoly  of  honesty  and 
courage. 

For  indeed  life  is  by  no  means  as  easy  as  some  energetic 
people  imagine.  Those  whose  lot  it  is  to  live  in  the 
world  must  sometimes  find  themselves  in  complicated  and 
delicate  situations  in  which  every  course  seems  open  to 
objections.  We  all  have  our  sets  of  rules  for  guidance, 
rules  which  are  safe  enough  for  little  and  ordinary  things ; 
but  some  new  situation  arises  to  which  these  rules  are  in- 
adequate, and  which  seems  to  call  for  their  revisal.  Alto- 
gether, this  is  a  supremely  difficult  world  to  live  in,  in 
which  there  is  much  that  we  all  disapprove  of,  and  more 
that  we  dislike. 

It  is  largely  a  question  of  proportion  in  our  judgment 
between  great  and  small  issues,  and  the  snare  of  the 
unimportant  may  keep  a  man  throughout  a  lifetime  dab- 
bing among  trivialities.  The  great  point  is  to  begin,  not 
among  the  trifling  details  of  the  fringe,  but  at  the  centre. 
Settle  the  main  issues  and  live  for  these — to  do  the  will 
of  God,  and  to  make  the  most  of  your  life  and  powers. 
Plan  your  life  on  a  sufficiently  large  scale,  and  with  a 
clear  sight  of  the  commanding  objects  for  which  you  are 
to  live.  As  to  the  detail,  it  is  best  left  to  settle  itself.  On 
the  dangerous  edge  of  things,  in  the  finesse  of  the  game 
of  life,  there  is  much  that  will  baffle  the  shrewdest  mind 
and  the  most  anxious  conscience.  Do  not  try  to  play  that 
game  of  life  as  if  you  were  God,  but  take  the  man's  way. 


MAN'S  COMPROMISE  WITH  GOD  181 

Accept  the  risks,  and  be  sure  that  you  will  often  make 
mistakes  in  detail.  Only  let  your  eye  be  fixed  steadily  on 
the  Master. 

To  those  who  will  dare  to  take  and  abide  by  this  way, 
strange  guidance  comes.  They  gain  a  knowledge,  or  rather 
a  hardly-conscious  instinct,  as  to  how  they  ought  to  act. 
"With  practice  and  obedience  this  instinctive  knowledge 
grows  surer  and  more  clear.  They  grow  extraordinarily 
sagacious.  They  cannot  give  their  reasons,  but  they  do  not 
make  mistakes.  Such  sagacity  cannot  possibly  be  acquired 
by  attention  to  detail.  It  is  the  result  of.  a  life  habitually 
turned  towards  the  thought  of  God,  and  the  larger  aims 
and  purposes.  In  such  lives  is  fulfilled  the  great  promise, 
"I  will  guide  thee  with  mine  eye." 


THE  OPEN-AIR  TREATMENT  OF 

SOULS 

"I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills." — Psalm  cxxi.  1. 

Much  has  been  heard  of  late  of  the  healing  qualities  of 
the  open  air,  and  medical  science  has  entered  into  a  new 
alliance  with  nature.  Discarding  or  at  least  laying  smaller 
stress  on  the  more  complicated  methods  of  the  past,  the 
secret  of  the  new  surgery  is  cleanness,  that  of  the  new 
medicine  fresh  air.  The  principle  has  been  extended  to 
Sociology,  and  in  many  directions  reformers  are  seeking 
an  escape  from  the  overcrowded  city  life,  and  an  open-air 
treatment  for  social  evils  and  miseries. 

Why  should  we  not  go  one  step  farther,  and  institute 
an  open-air  treatment  of  souls  ?  The  conditions  are  closely 
parallel.  Unnaturalness  is  the  greatest  evil  in  religious 
life,  as  it  is  in  life  social  and  physical.  Almost  all  the 
dangers  and  enemies  of  the  human  race  are  bred  in  over- 
crowded, narrow  and  pestilential  conditions  of  houses, 
society,  or  religious  thought.  Thus  all  the  three  fields  are 
one.  In  this  crusade,  physician,  social  worker,  and  the 
Church  join  forces.  They  aim  at  the  same  ends  and  follow 
the  same  methods.  Together  they  are  bringing  forth  the 
captives  out  of  the  prison-house,  back  to  nature  and  God's 
fresh  air. 

Here  we  must  avoid  the  mistakes  frequently  made  by 
poets  who  have  sought  to  personify  nature  and  find  in  it 
a  response  to  the  varying  moods  of  human  life,  and  by 

(182) 


THE  OPEN-AIR  TREATMENT  OF  SOULS    133 

theologians  who  have  found  in  it  an  analogy  of  the  ways 
of  God.  Nature  is  not  like  God.  Her  laws  disclose  no 
moral  standards.  When  these  are  introduced  she  appears 
full  not  only  of  contradictions  but  of  cruelties,  and  the 
God  whose  character  we  could  induce  from  a  consideration 
of  the  laws  of  nature  would  be  as  immoral  as  the  pagan 
divinities.  We  need  something  nearer,  more  human  and 
considerate,  a  God  who  can  understand  and  suffer  and  love. 
Indeed  we  are  so  far  from  the  poets  who  seek  in  nature 
an  echo  of  their  own  inner  life,  as  to  feel  that  it  is  in 
offering  us  an  escape  from  ourselves  that  nature  is  most 
helpful  to  man.  There  she  lies,  inscrutable,  placid,  expan- 
sive ;  now  wrapped  in  mists  and  clouds,  now  sun-smitten  or 
attacked  by  the  furious  onset  of  the  thunderstorm.  The 
craving  for  sympathy  from  her  is  morbid:  we  must  find 
health  in  her  unresponsiveness,  her  healing  want  of  sym- 
pathy with  morbid  souls. 

Nature  is  neither  like  man  nor  God.  And  when  we  feel 
the  burden  of  our  over-civilized  life,  and  the  cry  of  * '  Back 
to  nature"  rises,  it  is  that  we  may  get  among  the  elemental, 
simple  things.  The  far-reaching  primitive  instincts  call 
us  to  break  away.  We  "babble  o'  green  fields"  and  hear 
the  call  of  forests  and  moorlands.  The  mighty  hills  shout 
to  us,  the  river  woos  us  to  her  heart.  And  these  things 
are  for  an  allegory  of  that  wider  call  of  nature,  when  we 
need  above  all  things  a  touch  Qf  mother  earth,  that  our 
spirits  may  find  cleansing  and  peace,  simplicity  and  ex- 
pansiveness,  relaxation  and  health. 

1.  The  most  obvious  example  of  such  wholesome  return 
to  nature  is  in  connexion  with  temptation  and  sin.  Much 
temptation  is  simply  pent-up  strength  and  vitality,  seek- 
ing unwholesome  outlet,  or  the  sense  of  beauty  grown 
morbid  in  close  places,  for  the  want  of  far  horizons.  The 
selfish  pursuit  of  wealth  confines  men,  decadent  literature 
contaminates  the  air  they  breathe,  and  so  lusts  of  all  kinds, 


184  THINGS  ETERNAL 

the  diseases  of  the  soul,  are  bred.  Then  the  strong  man 
lifts  up  his  eyes  to  the  hills,  and  finds  fulfilment  for  his 
energy  as  a  "climber  of  the  rocks."  The  artist  lifts  up 
his  eyes  to  them,  and  in  their  colours  and  their  loftiness 
finds  spiritual  instead  of  sensuous  suggestion.  So  the  open 
air  works  its  cure,  and  among  the  wind-swept,  clean,  cool 
hills  the  fever  of  passion  ceases. 

2.  Just  as  the  return  to  nature  brings  purity  instead 
of  passion,  so  it  brings  peace  instead  of  worry  and  fret- 
fulness.  Our  life  grows  strained  and  anxious.  Business 
men  are  watching  the  markets,  scientists  their  instruments ; 
students  are  poring  over  their  books,  and  earnest  people 
are  feverishly  struggling  to  realize  ideals.  So  there  comes 
a  weariness  of  mind,  a  discouragement  and  sense  of  futility, 
in  which  things  begin  to  look  altogether  desperate.  We 
crowd  each  other,  too,  and  the  air  is  over-breathed.  We 
grow  tired  of  the  faces  of  our  fellow-men,  and  familiar 
voices  sound  strident  to  our  ears.  In  the  entanglement  of 
society,  where  each  is  struggling  for  himself,  love  is  lost; 
while  even  those  who  are  living  for  others  find  the  strain 
on  the  nerve  grow  tense,  till  it  is  like  to  cost  much  loss 
of  temper. 

It  is  well  known  that  for  physical  eye-strain  the  cure 
is  to  focus  the  eyes  on  a  distant  object.  Similarly  for 
mental  eye-strain  such  relief  may  come.  For  nature  is 
not  over-strung.  There,  on  the  mountains,  men  move  with 
elastic  step.  The  great  sweeps  of  landscape  and  skyline 
have  none  of  the  fatiguing  preciseness  of  our  daily  life. 
The  moorlands  are  spacious,  and  "over  all  the  hills  is 
rest."  Room  and  loneliness  and  air — a  sane  tolerance  of 
circumstances  and  a  wide  charity  for  our  fellow-men — 
these  are  the  gifts  of  the  open  air  and  the  hills. 

3.  No  department  of  life  needs  the  open  air  more,  or  is 
more  responsive  to  its  healing  power,  than  faith.  Our 
thoughts  of  God  show  the  effects  of  closeness,  and  our 
beliefs  are  apt   to   grow  unnatural   and  strained.     The 


THE  OPEN-AIR  TREATMENT  OF  SOULS     185 

Greeks  of  old  felt  this,  building  their  temples  on  the 
mountain-tops  as  if  to  say  (as  Professor  Butcher  has 
beautifully  expressed  it)  to  their  Egyptian  predecessors, 
"I  worship  in  the  sunshine.' '  Indeed  as  we  read  the 
history  of  ancient  religions,  this  liberation  is  everywhere 
apparent.  Dark  idolatries  are  lurking  in  valleys  and  in 
caves;  earthbound  superstitions,  the  offspring  of  an  un- 
wholesome fear  of  the  unknown,  people  the  universe  with 
terrors.  Then  suddenly  we  see  white  temples  upon  hills 
bathed  in  sunlight,  and  we  know  that  it  is  the  breeze  of 
God  that  is  blowing.  And  in  the  Hebrew  religion,  no  one 
can  forget  that  remarkable  succession  of  the  discoveries  of 
God,  moving  like  some  great  procession  from  Sinai  to 
Carmel,  Hattin,  Hermon,  Calvary,  Olivet.  Which  things 
also  are  for  an  allegory. 

(1)  The  gloom  of  morbid  introspection  has  fallen  upon 
faith.  As  formerly  we  found  men  crowded  and  obsessed 
by  others,  so  here  we  find  them  haunted  by  themselves.  In 
the  cloistered  life  of  self-examination  men  pore  upon  the 
evils  and  horrors  of  their  own  hearts.  But  if  the  heart  is 
deceitful  above  all  things  and  desperately  wicked,  surely 
that  only  shows  the  need  of  getting  away  from  its  evil 
neighbourhood  among  truer  and  purer  thoughts.  What 
is  needed  by  those  who  incline  to  such  brooding  is  the 
wholesome  neglect  of  themselves,  their  sins,  their  faith  and 
love  and  consistency.  Leave  all  these  alone:  remember 
God,  and  come  out  into  the  fresh  mountain  air  of  His 
love  and  goodness. 

(2)  Another  tendency  of  morbid  religion  is  to  occupy 
itself  with  trifles  and  to  imagine  that  they  matter.  Most 
men's  religion  is  hampered  by  denominational  or  ecclesi- 
astical principles  or  details  of  ritual.  All  church  testi- 
monies and  traditions  have  their  danger.  Beginning  often 
as  liberators,  they  end  by  becoming  an  iron  cage,  cramping 
alike  to  the  intellectual  and  the  spiritual  life.  We  suppose 
our  God  to  be  enlisted  on  one  side  of  such  questions  as 


186  THINGS  ETERNAL 

against  the  other,  while  really  we  are  but  measuring  our- 
selves against  our  fellow  men,  and  importing  our  ordinary 
rivalries  and  littlenesses  into  our  religion.  From  such 
narrow  rooms,  unventilated  and  murky,  where  we  occupy 
ourselves  with  misunderstandings  of  men  instead  of  with 
worship  of  God,  our  text  calls  us  forth,  to  worship  under 
the  broad  heavens  our  common  Father. 

(3)  Similarly  the  insistence  upon  dogmatic  intricacies 
of  definition,  and  the  search  for  truth  by  formulae,  have 
magnified  trifles,  lost  perspective,  and  given  an  air  of 
unreality  to  faith.  Doctrines  are  good  so  long  as  we 
remember  that  the  truth  is  greater  than  doctrines,  and 
that  God  cannot  be  defined.  Truth  is  not,  after  all,  in 
a  well,  but  on  a  mountain  top.  The  great  orthodoxy  is 
the  open  air  of  the  healthy  mind,  the  clear  eye,  the  loving 
heart,  and  the  firm  will.  "Heaven  soon  sets  right  all, 
other  matters/ ' 

Doubtless  the  open  air  is  trying  to  people  who  are  afraid 
of  draughts,  and  such  thoughts  may  seem  dangerous. 
They  were,  however,  the  thoughts  of  Jesus  Christ.  He 
found  men  sitting  in  their  close  synagogues  with  their 
fears  and  customs  and  orthodoxies,  and  he  led  them  out 
to  the  hills  where  the  birds  of  the  air  and  the  lilies  of  the 
field  told  them  of  the  Father  whose  sunshine  and  rain 
descended  upon  all.  And  so  nature  leads  us  beyond  her- 
self, and  by  returning  to  her  we  find  our  way  to  God. 
The  ancient  mystical  interpretation  of  the  title  of  the 
psalm,  "A  song  of  degrees,"  was  "the  steps  by  which 
God  leads  the  righteous  up  to  the  other  world. ' '  So  nature 
sets  up  her  ladder  of  Bethel,  whenever  any  soul  would  rise 
and  trust  her  guidance.  Through  the  fresher  air  we  have 
caught  sight  of  the  hills  of  the  eternal  land.  The  moun- 
tains of  earth  shall  depart  and  the  hills  be  removed,  but 
God's  kindness  shall  not  depart.  Nature  is  passing  away, 
but  the  mercy  of  the  Lord  is  from  everlasting  to  ever- 
lasting. 


THREE    VIEWS    OF    MAN'S    DESTINY 

1.  Pessimism 

"I  wept  much,  because  no  man  was  found  worthy  to  open  and 
to  read  the  book." — Eevelation  v.  4. 

This  is  a  mysterious  passage  in  a  mysterious  book,  but 
the  fact  that  interpretation  may  easily  become  ridiculous 
should  not  debar  us  from  the  beauty  and  the  power  of  one 
of  the  greatest  and  most  picturesque  of  Scriptural  poetic 
images.  God  is  on  His  throne,  but  He  is  left  undescribed, 
and  we  see  only  His  hand  holding  a  sealed  book. 

There  have  been  many  guesses  as  to  what  this  book 
represents,  some  of  them  fantastic  enough.  In  general  it 
may  be  safely  taken  to  be  a  book  of  human  destiny,  that 
long  and  secret  scroll  which  is  slowly  unrolled  in  Scripture, 
history,  politics,  science,  and  every  other  phase  of  actual 
human  life.  The  interpretation  of  the  visions  at  the 
breaking  of  the  seals  is  safe  for  no  detail,  but  they  afford 
glimpses  of  the  general  demands  that  time  is  sure  to  make 
on  men  and  nations  until  all  things  end  with  the  dawn 
of  the  heavenly  life. 

What  concerns  us  especially  is  the  group  of  three  figures 
which  represent  three  of  the  main  attitudes  of  man  to 
destiny.  There  is  the  weeping  man,  the  pessimist,  who 
sees  only  the  sadness  of  the  mystery,  and  tends  towards 
despair  and  cynicism.  Then  there  is  the  elder  of  Judah 
with  the  lion  of  his  tribe,  the  optimist  whose  one  re- 
source is  that  of  energy.  Finally  there  is  the  true 
key  to  destiny;  the  lamb  as  it  had  been  slain,  emblem 

(187) 


188  THINGS  ETERNAL 

of  love  and  sacrifice.     We  may  consider  these  in  three 
successive  studies. 

The  pessimist  comes  first,  represented  by  the  weeping 
man  of  the  text.  This  man  may  stand  for  many  thousands 
who  have  stood  in  bitterness  before  the  unsolved  riddle  of 
human  life.  For  himself,  he  cannot  silence  the  questions 
that  find  no  answer.  Why  has  he  been  sent  here? 
Whither  does  the  purpose  of  his  creation  tend?  What  is 
his  duty  meanwhile,  and  what  is  his  fate  to  be  at  last? 
For  others,  the  questions  are  aggravated  by  the  conditions 
under  which  most  men  live.  There  is  the  pain  and  misery 
and  sin  of  the  world ;  and  much  of  these  seems  so  unneces- 
sary, so  unfair,  and  so  meaningless.  The  apparent  waste — 
the  heartless  and  unreasonable  waste — of  the  wealth  of 
human  hearts  and  lives,  force  upon  him  the  questions, 
What  does  God  mean  by  making  a  world  like  this?  and, 
What  is  He  going  to  do  with  it? 

These  questions  find  no  answer.  No  man  is  strong 
enough  to  break  the  seals  and  open  the  book.  No  nation 
is  strong  enough.  The  national  thought  of  Greece  had 
tried  it  in  the  sublime  attack  of  its  philosophies;  that  of 
Rome  in  the  imperial  attack  upon  the  world;  while  many 
an  Asiatic  people  had  already  sought  to  wrest  that  secret 
from  the  mysterious  hand  that  held  it.  Nay,  the  strong 
angel  himself  is  helpless  here.  The  mystery  of  this  world  *s 
life  is  baffling  not  only  to  those  who  dwell  in  the  world, 
but  to  whatever  lofty  intelligences  look  on  from  the  spirit- 
world  also.  All  these  pathetic  "  efforts  to  understand 
things"  fill  the  writer's  mind  with  an  overwhelming  sense 
of  futility.  He  can  make  nothing  of  it,  and  he  abandons 
the  attempt  with  tears. 

There  were  other  elements  in  this  grief  besides  baffled 
curiosity.  We  all  learn  sooner  or  later  that  many  things 
in  this  strange  world  are  beyond  our  understanding,  and 
we  come  to  terms  with  the  mystery  of  things  with  as  good 


THREE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY  189 

grace  as  we  can.  But  there  are  special  elements  here, 
which  in  some  degree  enter  into  the  experience  of  all  such 
seekers,  and  which  give  to  pessimism  its  keenest  point. 

First  of  all,  the  dreamer  had  been  promised  a  knowledge 
of  the  future,  and  in  this  refusal  there  was  something  like 
a  claim  dishonoured.  And  in  us  all  there  is  the  feeling 
that  in  some  sense  we  have  a  right  to  know.  We  are  not 
asking  ±cr  complete  explanations,  but  surely  we  may 
expect  light  enough  to  live  by.  We  are  here  not  of  our 
own  choice,  and  we  are  willing  to  accept  the  situation  and 
make  the  best  of  it.  But,  so  tangled  is  the  skein  of  life, 
it  often  happens  that  with  the  best  intentions  men  make 
the  most  serious  mistakes.  We  want  some  sure  guidance, 
and  above  all  we  want  some  assurance  that  it  is  not  all  in 
vain,  and  that  our  destinies  are  not,  as  they  sometimes  seem 
to  be,  the  sport  of  chance.  We  are  willing  to  work  cheer- 
fully or  to  suffer  patiently  if  we  can  only  understand. 
But  this  looks  like  the  demand  for  day  labour  while  light 
is  denied  us,  and  it  is  no  wonder  though  we  weep. 

Second,  a  discovery  is  here  given  of  how  much  is  re- 
quired for  such  knowledge  as  we  crave.  "No  man  is 
worthy  to  open  the  book."  The  hindrance  to  understand- 
ing, the  veil  between  our  souls  and  truth  is  our  own  sin, 
and  conscience  further  embitters  the  great  unanswered 
question.  The  mystery  of  life  often  seems  to  press  most 
sorely  on  the  good,  but  it  does  not  break  their  hearts.  They 
find  some  meaning  in  things  that  consoles  them  and  gives 
them  rest.  But  the  unworthy  have  no  such  consolation. 
It  is  they  who  weep  most  bitterly  before  the  face  of  destiny, 
and  rebel  against  the  way  in  which  the  unintelligible 
world  is  made.  When  we  are  caught  in  the  mills  of  God, 
the  nether  millstone  on  which  any  soul  is  ground  is  ever 
its  own  unworthiness. 

The  lessons  of  all  this  are  plain.  When  we  are  con- 
fronted with  the  blank  and  bitter  mystery  of  things  it  is 


190  THINGS  ETERNAL 

not  well  to  brood  sullenly  on  the  sense  of  a  dishonoured 
claim.  The  book  is  unreadable,  and  we  have  no  real  right 
to  understand.  Neither  science  nor  religion  professes  to 
answer  all  our  questions.  Our  theories  give  no  full  ex- 
planation, our  visions  are  but  glimpses  at  the  best.  "In 
mystery  the  soul  abides, "  and  to  the  end  we  are  but  "led 
blindfold  through  the  glimmering  camp  of  God."  And, 
further,  when  we  are  tempted  to  despair  and  to  rebel  and 
to  malign  the  world,  it  is  well  to  ask  ourselves,  Am  I 
worthy  to  open  the  book?  What  grossness,  what  pride, 
what  folly  enter  even  into  our  desire  to  understand  ?  What 
use  have  we  made  of  the  light  vouchsafed  to  us?  For 
doubt  is  surprising  only  when  the  life  is  pure,  and  they 
who  know  most  are  those  who  are  "holding  the  mystery 
of  the  fait>  in  a  pure  conscience.' ' 

And  after  all  is  said,  however  natural  it  be,  and  by  what- 
ever reasons  we  may  explain  it,  this  is  an  unmanly  attitude 
towards  life.  Granted  that  his  claim  seems  dishonoured, 
granting  that  he  is  conscience-stricken  as  well,  still  the  last 
word  that  a  man  has  to  say  of  life  cannot  be  a  fit  of  weep- 
ing. Pessimism  is  always  and  in  all  circumstances  a  poor 
and  futile  thing,  and  its  answer  to  the  riddle  of  the 
universe  is  a  maudlin  answer.  However  hard  and  cruel 
destiny  may  seem  as  we  face  it,  at  least  let  us  face  it 
standing  on  our  feet.  Weep  for  your  own  relief  if  you 
must,  but  do  not  let  others  see  or  hear  you.  We  surely 
cannot  be  justified  in  adding  to  the  discouragement  of  the 
world  by  any  policy  of  wailing. 

And  when  the  discouragers  stand  back,  and  the  sound 
of  their  weeping  ceases,  we  find  that  they  have  made  room 
for  Christ.  What  we  have  heard  is  all  we  are  going  to 
hear  of  man's  unaided  effort  to  understand  things.  The 
other  two  voices  which  we  shall  hear  are  voices  of  Christ. 
Jesus  Christ,  regarded  in  one  point  of  view  or  in  another, 
is  the  grand  solution  offered  by  our  Christian  faith.     He 


THREE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY  191 

does  not,  indeed,  profess  to  explain  the  whole  mystery. 
Many  things  remain  unintelligible  even  to  them  that  be- 
lieve. Yet  He  has  done  more  to  solve  the  riddle  of  human 
life  than  "all  the  ranged  reasons  of  the  world";  and  be- 
cause of  that,  the  intellect  of  Christendom  is  able  to  rest 
in  faith  even  in  the  midst  of  strange  experiences  and  un- 
answered questions.  Say  what  men  will  about  Him,  it  is 
evident  that  for  Him  the  book  of  destiny  was  an  open 
book.  He  has  told  us  what  He  could,  and  it  has  been 
enough.  He  has  known  and  told  the  great  secret,  and 
interpreted  our  life  to  us. 


THREE    VIEWS    OF    MAN'S    DESTINY 

2.  The  Gospel  of  Healthy -mindedness 

"Weep  not:  behold,  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Juda  .  .  .  hath  pre- 
vailed to  open  the  book." — Kevelation  v.  5. 

The  elder's  view  of  the  Messiah  is  "the  Lion  of  the  tribe 
of  Judah,"  and  his  boast  is  that  Christ,  in  that  capacity, 
has  been  able  to  unseal  and  open  the  book  of  human 
destiny.  At  least  one  of  the  older  commentators  has  rec- 
ognized in  this  elder  the  figure  of  the  patriarch  Jacob,  and 
has  referred  the  text  back  to  the  splendid  words  of 
Genesis  xlix.  9 — "  Judah  is  a  lion's  whelp;  from  the 
prey,  my  son,  thou  art  gone  up:  he  stooped  down,  he 
couched  as  a  lion,  and  as  an  old  lion;  who  shall  rouse 
him  up  ? " 

It  would  seem  that  from  early  times  the  lion  had  been 
a  sort  of  insignia  of  Judah,  a  national  emblem  like  the 
Scottish  and  the  Persian  lion.  Dr.  Dods  has  said  in  this 
connexion,  "There  is  enough  in  the  history  of  Judah  him- 
self, and  in  the  subsequent  history  of  the  tribe,  to  justify 
the  ascription  to  him  of  all  lion-like  qualities — a  kingly 
fearlessness,  confidence,  power,  and  success;  in  action  a 
rapidity  of  movement,  and  a  might  that  make  Him  irre- 
sistible, and  in  repose  a  majestic  dignity  of  bearing." 
The  same  writer  goes  on  to  contrast  the  "rushing  onset  of 
the  lion  with  the  craft  of  the  serpent,  the  predatory  instinct 
of  the  wolf  and  the  swiftness  of  the  hind. ' '  This,  especially 
in  times  of  oppression  and  adversity,  gives  a  very  fair 
idea  of  the  conception  of  Messiah  cherished  by  the  elders 

(192) 


THREE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINE        193 

of  Israel.    To  their  passionate  patriotism  He  was  the  mir- 
ror and  emblem  of  national  strength  and  triumph. 

History  has  borne  out  the  lordly  boast.  Judiah  has  been 
not  merely  a  personal  but  a  national  force  in  the  arena 
of  the  world's  destinies.  All  nations  have  taken  their  part 
in  the  grand  sum  total  of  history,  but  it  is  Judea  that  has 
led  the  way,  both  in  the  understanding  and  in  the  shaping 
of  the  destinies  of  the  world.  Disraeli  has  boasted  that 
"the  most  popular  poet  in  England  is  the  sweet  singer 
of  Israel,' '  and  that  "the  divine  image  of  the  most  illus- 
trious of  the  Hebrews"  has  been  again  raised  amid  the 
homage  of  kneeling  millions  in  the  most  civilized  of  the 
kingdoms  of  Europe.  When  we  think  of  what  Jesus  Christ 
has  meant  already  in  human  history,  we  are  constrained  to 
confess  that  that  gallant  little  nation,  perched  on  its  high 
ridge  of  rock,  has  indeed  unsealed  the  book.  By  the 
earliest  Christian  missions,  by  the  Crusades,  and  by  the 
unceasing  play  of  Christianity  upon  the  West,  she  gave  its 
future  to  savage  Europe.  Later,  when  the  New  World 
opened  its  gates  to  the  Old,  it  was  Puritan  Christianity 
that  gave  its  noblest  qualities  to  the  American  race.  To- 
day, when  for  Africa  and  Asia  the  seals  are  being  opened 
in  so  swift  and  dramatic  succession,  the  issues  of  the 
future  again  depend  wholly  on  the  Judean — it  will  be 
Christ  or  a  godless  civilization  more  ominous  than  their 
past  heathenism. 

But  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah  may  also  be  taken 
as  the  representative  type  of  a  clearly  defined  ideal  of 
character.  It  is  the  oriflamme  of  the  Gospel  of  healthy- 
mindedness,  and  the  doctrine  of  the  strenuous  life.  This 
lion-like  attack  on  destiny  is  indeed  a  magnificent  imagi- 
nation. It  tells  of  direct  attack  that  scorns  diplomatic 
cunning,  of  will  and  main  force  whose  self-reliance  waits 
neither  for  the  backing  of  friends  nor  of  circumstances. 
It  tells  us  of  a  certain  band  of  warriors  against  fate  who 


194  THINGS  ETERNAL 

by  sheer  force  and  rush  of  onset  have  carried  destiny  by 
storm.  Shakespeare  knew  them — men  who  "  taking  arms 
against  a  sea  of  troubles ' '  would  ' '  by  opposing  end  them. ' ' 
Victor  Hugo  took  them  for  ideal  types  of  character,  and 
openly  proclaimed  his  worship  of  strength.  George  Mere- 
dith cried  to  us  to  lay  hold  on  God  with  our  strength,  and 
not  with  our  weakness.  Stanley  and  a  host  of  other  West- 
ern adventurers  are  of  the  band.  Nansen  uttered  this 
elder's  cry  when  he  shouted,  " Accidents  shall  not  hap- 
pen,'' and  drove  for  the  North. 

These  are  the  men  of  sturm  und  drang,  who  master  and 
enlist  the  great  forces  of  the  world.  For  the  most  part 
they  are  plain  men,  not  assuming  virtues  of  greater  deli- 
cacy than  they  can  understand.  Always  they  are  strong 
men,  who  are  not  wearied  but  braced  by  labour  and  en- 
durance. They  are  simple  men,  unembarrassed  by  the 
subtle  questionings  which  distract  others.  They  cut  through 
the  knots  which  others  strive  in  vain  to  disentangle,  and 
their  only  refuge  from  discouragements  and  fears  is  the 
refuge  of  action.  Men  of  this  spirit  may  do  superhuman 
things,  taking  the  citadels  of  destiny  by  assault.  Destiny 
goes  down  before  Will,  and  the  Weird  itself  (so  runs  the 
ancient  Saxon  song)  will  help  "  an  undoomed  man  if  he  be 
brave."  Not  even  the  sense  of  sin  and  failure,  nor  the 
disheartening  memory  of  the  irrevocable  past,  is  able 
wholly  to  daunt  such  spirits.  There  is  in  strong  and  cour- 
ageous vitality,  a  strange  power  of  healing  and  of  puri- 
fying, which  baffles  the  powers  of  darkness. 

Jesus  Christ  rides  at  the  head  of  that  company  of 
heroes.  He  is  not  the  opponent,  but  the  truest  of  all  ex- 
ponents of  the  Gospel  of  the  healthy  mind.  He  matched 
His  strength  against  the  religious  hierarchy  of  Jerusa- 
lem, against  the  vast  Empire  of  Home,  against  the  world, 
and  He  has  won  His  battle  all  along  the  line.  In  the 
progress  of  the  Christian  conscience  we  see  Him  pitted 


THREE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINE         195 

against  the  slaveries,  oppressions,  injustices  of  two  thou- 
sand years.  In  the  progress  of  Christian  civilization  we 
see  Him  combating  the  forces  of  sorrow,  poverty,  disease, 
and  death.  In  the  progress  of  religious  thought  we  see 
Him  conquering  prejudice,  hypocrisy,  and  errors  of  the 
mind  and  heart  and  will. 

It  is  good  to  think  thus  of  Christ  and  to  realize  His 
effectiveness  among  the  actual  forces  of  the  world.  There 
is  a  certain  type  of  mind  which,  gazing  too  exclusively  on 
His  tears  and  on  His  wounds,  thinks  of  Jesus  with  a  sort 
of  half -conscious  pity,  and  associates  the  thought  of  Him 
with  weakness  and  effeminacy.  But  this  elder  comes  forth 
with  his  name  of  "the  lion"  and  rescues  Him  from  a 
thousand  stained-glass  windows  where  He  has  hung  anae- 
mic before  the  eyes  of  sentimental  worshippers.  Here  is 
God's  athlete,  the  real  and  eternal  Herakles.  Here  is  the 
lion,  bounding  into  the  arena  of  the  world's  struggle, 
terrible  in  His  might,  destroying  that  which  He  opposes. 
Here  is  the  "strong  Son  of  God,"  and  He  is  at  the  head 
of  all  the  daring. 

There  are  Christians  to-day  who  grow  timid  when  they 
realize  the  strength  of  the  secular  forces  of  the  world  and 
the  apparently  irrestistible  power  of  evil  in  society.  It 
would  be  well  if  such  Christians  would  forget  their  con- 
ception of  Christianity  as  a  forlorn  hope,  and  remcrr.ber 
that  those  who  are  Christ's  are  in  the  sweep  of  the  g:  it- 
est  of  all  the  forces  now  operative  on  the  earth.  Tlu^e 
are  young  men  who,  like  Christoferus  in  the  familiar 
legend,  love  strength  and  will  follow  only  the  strongest. 
Here  is  their  leader.  Christ  has  had  time  to  prove  His 
strength,  and  to-day,  after  all  those  centuries,  He  stands 
forth  unconquered  and  unaffrighted.  Here  is  the  hero 
of  heroes,  the  eternal  leader  of  the  strongest  and  most 
resolute  men.  He  calls  not  for  weaklings  to  love  Him,  but 
for  strong  men  to  follow  Him.    And  His  call  is  a  challenge 


196  THINGS  ETERNAL 

to  all  the  morbid  and  the  idle  and  the  soft  and  self-indul- 
gent. You  who  are  forgetting  your  manhood,  in  an  age 
that  calls  for  universal  service  and  the  redemption  of 
men  by  men;  you  who  are  wailing  over  the  evils  of  the 
times  and  reading  melancholy  books;  you  who  are  spend- 
ing all  your  strength  in  other  service  while  your  noblest 
powers  are  rusting  from  disuse — rise  up  and  play  the  man ! 
And  you  whose  spirit  still  is  manly,  and  who  fain  would 
live  strenuously  and  follow  the  strongest — the  strongest 
is  among  you;  rise  and  follow  Christ. 


THREE    VIEWS    OF    MAN'S    DESTINY 

3.   Love   and   Sacrifice 

"A  Lamb  as  it  had  been  slain." — Revelation  v.  6. 

The  lion  of  the  elder  is  a  true  aspect  of  Christ,  and  yet 
there  is  a  more  excellent  way.  It  is  the  way  of  the  saint, 
the  divine  seer  and  evangelist,  who  comes  to  rest  upon  the 
vision  of  "the  Lamb  standing  as  it  had  been  slain,"  as 
the  innermost  secret  of  life  and  the  true  key  of  human 
destiny.  For  there  is  a  limit  to  the  power  of  will  and 
courage,  and  sooner  or  later  even  the  boldest  attack  teaches 
us  by  its  imperfect  success  that  we  mortals  must  "ap- 
proach destiny  respectfully." 

So  now  we  have  the  lamb  substituted  for  the  lion.  And 
it  is  apviov — "the  little  lamb" — quoted  from  Isaiah  liii. 
7,  but  purposely  changed  to  the  diminutive.  This  is  the 
favourite  thought  of  that  tender  and  far-seeing  spirit  who 
took  up  the  beautiful  imagery  of  the  twenty-third  Psalm, 
and  understood  so  well  the  meaning  of  the  words  "thy 
gentleness  hath  made  me  great,"  when  he  told  how  the 
Baptist  had  spoken  of  Jesus  as  the  Lamb  of  God. 

A  great  principle  is  embodied  here.  There  is  a  Syrian 
mountain  whose  black  basalt  breaks  the  lofty  table-land 
above  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  At  that  mountain  the  Crusaders 
lost  Palestine  after  one  of  the  fiercest  of  their  battles.  On 
the  same  spot,  according  to  tradition  at  least,  Jesus  won 
the  world  by  his  Sermon  on  the  Mount.    It  is  the  merest 

(197) 


198  THINGS  ETERNAL 

commonplace,  alike  of  science  and  of  human  nature,  that 
the  humblest  approach  gains  the  richest  results.  Nature 
resists  man's  violence,  but  yields  inevitably  in  the  end  to 
his  loving  patience.  In  character,  self-assertion  and  the 
endeavour  to  make  an  impression  have  accomplished  much ; 
persecution,  punishment,  and  coercion  have  done  much; 
but  love  has  done  far  more  than  these.  Love  is  the  key 
to  destiny.  Force  may  succeed  outwardly  and  yet  be  but 
a  magnificent  failure.  Love  never  fails:  it  does  its  ap- 
pointed work. 

It  was  this  which  was  the  life-long  task  and  achievement 
of  Jesus.  In  Him  the  world  has  seen  love  at  once  reveal- 
ing and  making  destiny.  For  what  was  it  in  Him  that  led 
men  to  understand  themselves  and  to  change  into  better 
manhood?  What  was  it  that  made  that  nobler  life  seem 
no  longer  an  impossible  ideal,  but  their  own  rightful  heri- 
tage? It  was  not  His  courage  nor  His  strength,  not  His 
absoluteness  nor  His  denunciation.  It  was  simply  His  love 
— that  same  love  which  cured  the  sickness  of  the  land 
and  burst  open  the  tombs  of  its  dead. 

That  aspect  of  the  life  of  Christ  gives  us  a  great  counsel 
to  which  we  shall  take  heed  if  we  be  wise.  When  we 
have  tried  to  force  success  by  sheer  daring  and  strenu- 
ousness  and  have  failed,  nothing  is  more  natural  than  to 
become  embittered.  But  this  reminds  us  that  we  have 
not  yet  exhausted  our  resources.  One  power  remains  in 
reserve,  the  power  of  love.  Those  are  wise  who,  in  the 
dark  hour  of  defeat,  guard  the  springs  of  the  heart  and 
refuse  to  be  embittered.  Power  and  will  are  broken,  but 
love  remains  still  possible,  and  it  is  really  the  greatest 
power  of  all.  But  the  secret  that  lies  behind  all  hearts 
kept  open  and  generous  is  deeper  than  the  human  effort 
to  keep  them  so.  "We  love  because  He  first  loved  us." 
When  all  things  have  gone  against  a  man  and  he  cannot 


THREE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY  199 

repress  the  question  whether  life  is  worth  its  cost,  let  him 
remember  the  love  of  Christ  and  stay  himself  on  that 
great  fact.  Soon  such  a  one  will  no  longer  wonder;  he  will 
know. 

But  in  that  master-picture  of  Isaiah's  which  is  here 
presented,  there  is  a  further  meaning.  It  is  not  only 
the  lamb,  but  the  lamb  slain  that  we  see;  not  only  the 
love  but  sacrifice.  The  lamb  has  death-wounds  on  its 
body,  as  it  stands  in  the  first  pathos  of  death,  slain  though 
not  yet  fallen.  This  is  indeed  the  kind  of  love  that  con- 
quers destiny.  There  are  many  kinds  of  love — placidly 
selfish  love,  good-humoured  and  easy-going  affection,  that 
knows  nothing  of  sacrifice.  But  this  is  by  far  too  great 
a  task  for  such  love.  The  book  of  destiny  remains  for 
ever  closed  to  selfishness. 

So  we  come  in  sight  of  the  ancient  truth,  old  indeed  as 
the  world  though  but  slowly  apprehended,  that  man  must 
sacrifice  to  destiny.  To  gain  either  the  understanding  or 
the  mastery  of  fate  you  must  give  up  yourself.  It  is  a 
hard  lesson,  but  it  is  the  way  in  which  the  world  is  made, 
and  we  must  all  learn  it.  It  is  sacrifice,  and  sacrifice  alone, 
that  avails  in  the  last  resort  to  give  either  peace  or  victory. 
Life  has  no  power  to  resist  self-sacrifice.  One's  own  un- 
intelligible experience  and  threatening  future,  the  fate  of 
one's  friends,  the  woe  of  the  world — all  these  demand 
sacrifice  for  their  explanation,  and  that  is  the  last  word 
life  has  to  say  to  any  man.  And  it  is  always  possible  for 
each  of  us  to  accept  the  strange  condition.  A  man  can 
always  sacrifice  himself,  and  until  he  has  tried  that  ex- 
pedient he  has  no  right  to  disbelieve  in  life  and  rail  against 
it.  While  we  are  insisting  on  our  right  to  be  happy  and 
successful,  we  are  still  at  cross  purposes  with  the  world. 
When  we  make  up  our  mind  to  give  up  our  claim,  to  suffer 
with  the  world  and  for  it,  all  the  perverse  appearance 


200  THINGS  ETERNAL 

of  things  changes,  and  the  world  proves  reasonable  and 
good.  He  who  of  his  own  free  determination  steps  forward 
frankly  to  the  cross  and  accepts  it,  has  discovered  a  new 
meaning  in  human  life. 

Behind  all  such  sacrifices,   interpreting  them  and  in- 
spiring them,  stands  the  great  self-sacrifice  of  Jesus  Christ. 
As  we  see  Him  moving  on  towards  Calvary  we  tremble  as 
we  realize  how  the  fate  of  the  world  turned  on  that  cross. 
By  accepting  it  He  revealed  the  meaning  of  man 's  destiny, 
and  He  conquered  it  for  man.     The  lamb  slain  prevailed 
to  open  the  book.     The  revealing  power  of  the  Cross  has 
showed  how  through  suffering  man  is  made  perfect,  and 
changed  the  mystery  of  pain  to  the  hope  of  glory,  the 
bitter  cry  to  the  shout  of  victory,  and  the  victims  of  life  to 
the  sons  of  God.     The  conquering  power  of  the  cross  has 
changed  not  only  the  aspect  of  things  but  the  things  them- 
selves.    Sin,  borne   and  mastered  there,  is  no  longer  a 
doom  but  a  thing  doomed.    Sorrow  and  pain  are  no  longer 
the  curses  of  humanity,  but  the  ministers  of  grace.    Man 
is  no  longer  a  failure  and  an  outcast,  but  one  who  stands 
above  his  fate,  ransomed  of  the  Lord. 

These  are  the  wonderful  ways  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  lion- 
like hero,  and  the  lamb  standing  as  it  had  been  slain. 
He  is  accessible  to  men  from  whatever  side  they  approach 
Him,  satisfying  the  need  of  one  for  a  hero,  of  another 
for  sacrifice  and  love.  And  every  one  who  comes  to  Him 
finds  sooner  or  later  more  than  he  sought  to  find.  There 
are  some  who  come  to  Him  for  strength,  full-blooded  and 
confident  and  buoyant,  seeking  health  and  happy  service. 
These  find  what  they  have  sought,  but  they  also  find  love 
and  sacrifice  waiting  for  them;  and  though  at  first  they 
may  wonder  and  shrink  back,  in  the  end  they  will  know 
that  life  can  only  be  made  perfect  through  sufferings — 

His  and  theirs  also.     Others  come  to  Him  thinking  only 


THREE  VIEWS  OF  MAN'S  DESTINY  201 

of  sacrifice,  bringing  only  their  broken  hearts  and  disap- 
pointed spirits  and  shamed  consciences;  and  these  find  tc 
their  amazement  that  Christ  has  for  them  also  gifts  of 
courage  and  strength  and  gladness.  Either  way  this  is 
true,  that  men  who  come  to  Him  find  always  the  key  to 
destiny  in  His  hands.  He  has  opened  the  book,  and  for 
them  no  longer  fate  but  Jesus  Christ  is  lord  and  master 
of  their  lives. 


WELL-MEANING    BLUNDERERS 

"Blessed  is  he  that  shall  eat  bread  in  the  kingdom  of  God." — 

Luke  xiv.  15. 
"Blessed  is  the  womb  which  bear  Thee  and  the  paps  which  Thou 

hast  sucked." — Luke  xi.  27. 

We  have  here  two  instances  in  which  well-meaning  per- 
sons lost  their  heads  when  they  heard  Jesus  speaking  plain 
home-truths.  .  They  have  their  successors  in  every  age, 
and  stand  for  peculiarly  characteristic  types  of  the  two 
commonest  ways  of  turning  aside  the  edge  of  conviction. 
The  woman  turns  it  aside  by  an  emotion,  the  man  by  a 
pious  remark. 

1.  The  Woman. — Women  were  ever  quicker  than  men 
to  perceive  the  greatness  of  Jesus.  In  this  instance  we 
can  see  the  woman's  rising  excitement  as  we  read  the 
storjr.  The  perversity  and  rudeness  of  His  treacherous 
enemies  must  have  stung  the  hearts  of  His  friends.  His 
reply  to  them,  describing  the  miserable  plight  of  the  devil- 
haunted,  and  the  wandering  of  demons  in  the  wilderness, 
further  heated  her  imagination,  until  perhaps  she  had 
grown  almost  hysterical,  and  needed  the  relief  of  speech. 
It  was  the  cry  of  one  full  of  delight  in  His  human  power 
and  more  than  human  grace.  The  kind  and  womanly  heart 
of  her  speaks  out,  it  may  be  with  the  passion  of  the  child- 
less or  the  yearning  of  one  whose  children  had  shamed  her. 
She  blesses  the  unknown  mother  of  Jesus,  thinking  how 
proud  she  herself  would  have  been  to  have  borne  such  a 
son.    Her  cry  was  the  spontaneous  utterance  of  the  purest 

(202) 


WELL-MEANING  BLUNDERERS  203 

and  most  natural  emotion. 

Yet  Jesus  turned  it  aside  with  pointed  words  about  the 
blessedness  of  those  that  hear  the  Word  of  God  and  keep 
it.  His  words  were  very  gentle,  yet  they  were  relentless. 
He  was  carrying  on  His  great  work,  intent  upon  the 
supreme  moral  and  spiritual  issues  of  men's  lives.  This 
inrush  of  emotion,  distracting  attention  from  the  line  of 
His  teaching,  was  in  the  nature  of  an  interruption;  and 
He  was  not  one  who  would  allow  the  beauty  or  even  the 
kindliness  of  an  emotion  to  interfere  with  His  higher 
mission. 

The  case  is  one  which  must  repeat  itself  so  long  as  hu- 
man nature  is  what  it  is.  Life  is  ever  calling  for  a  serious 
dealing  with  the  facts,  and  there  are  always  some  whose 
answer  is  a  flash  of  feeling  and  a  dramatic  exclamation. 
Christ  calls  for  thought  and  action,  for  hearing  and  doing, 
and  we  are  apt  to  offer  Him  this  cheaper  offering.  Feel- 
ing has  its  own  place  in  life,  but  that  is  not  its  place.  It 
should  accompany  or  follow  the  intellect  and  the  will ;  and 
the  grand  mistake  which  many  make  is  to  place  it  first, 
leaving  will  or  intellect  to  follow  as  best  they  can  its 
changeful  guidance.  No  matter  how  good  the  feeling  may 
be,  it  can  never  enter  deeply  enough  into  the  meaning 
of  Christ's  demand.  Indeed,  the  better  it  is  the  more  dan- 
gerous it  will  be  as  a  substitute  for  true  response,  for  it 
will  be  but  the  more  plausible,  though  quite  as  inadequate. 

2.  The  Man. — Seated  at  the  table  as  a  guest,  this  un- 
named man  interrupts  the  discourse  of  Jesus  with  a 
somewhat  similar  remark.  It  does  not  look  like  an  original 
saying,  and  may  very  likely  have  been  a  familiar  quotation 
from  some  of  the  Rabbinical  writings.  Matthew  Henry 
takes  a  kindly  view  of  the  incident :  ' '  Even  those  that  are 
not  of  ability  to  carry  on  good  discourse  themselves  ought 
to  put  in  a  word  now  and  then,  to  countenance  it  and  help 
it  forward."    It  is  an  interpretation  characteristic  of  that 


204  THINGS  ETERNAL 

most  courteous  of  divines,  but  it  is  quite  impossible  here. 
Jesus  evidently  regards  the  words  as  an  intended  inter- 
ruption, and  throws  them  aside  in  His  very  pointed  par- 
able of  the  feast  and  the  excuses. 

Quite  consciously,  in  this  case,  the  interjection  was  in- 
tended to  parry  the  thrust  of  Jesus'  words.     His  speech 
had  been  growing  more  and  more  direct  and  personal.    It 
had  become  an  exceedingly  trying   conversation  for  the 
listeners,  as  the  guest  proceeded  to  rebuke  the  hospitality 
of  his  host.    To  relieve  the  strain  this  well-meaning  man 
changes  the  subject  from  the  present  occasion  into  the 
wide  and  spacious  future,  from  a  particular  instance  to 
vague  generalities  about  which  there  could  be  no  dispute. 
His  benignant  sentiments  and  edifying  remarks  about  the 
kingdom  of  God  may  well  have  won  him  a  grateful  glance 
from  the  uneasy  Pharisee  at  the  head  of  the  table.    Cer- 
tainly the  incident  must  have  appealed  strongly  to  any 
one  of  the  guests  who  had  a  sense  of  humour.    It  is  hardly 
possible  for  us  to  suppress  a  smile  when  we  think  how 
anxiously  some  very  proper  people  must  have  wished  the 
feast  was  over.     Jesus  was  so  explosive,  so  unexpected — 
what  would  He  be  saying  next?     So  this  nervous  little 
creature  comes  to  the  assistance  of  his  host  and  tries  to 
save  the  situation.    But  Jesus  is  come  not  to  save  situations 
but  to  save  souls.     He  has  no  use  for  edifying  remarks 
which  turn  aside  His  direct  thrust  at  the  consciences  of 
men.    And  this  is  a  man  who  is  afraid  of  the  naked  flame 
of  truth,  and  who  is  trying  to  protect  himself  and  his 
friends  from  Christ  by  what  he  took  to  be  piety. 

Unfortunately  he  has  not  been  the  last  to  make  that 
attempt.  We  all  know  the  type  of  man  who,  when  the 
situation  is  becoming  somewhat  strained,  exclaims,  "  Bless- 
ed' '  is  somebody  or  other!  " Don't  let  us  talk  about  that, 
let  us  talk  about  something  pleasant."  This  is  the  sort 
of  man  who  might  conceivably  be  saved  by  an  outburst 


WELL-MEANING  BLUNDERERS  205 

of  clean  anger  or  even  frank  profanity — saved  from  ner- 
vous timidity  and  bloodless  want  of  character.  As  it  is, 
his  motto  is  caution.  Reduce  Christianity  to  platitude, 
explain  away  or  tone  down  unwelcome  truth,  until  ''the 
Bible  as  usual  means  nothing  particular;  it  is  merely  an 
obscure  and  figurative  copy-book. ' '  But  now  as  then  Christ 
despises  language  so  guarded  that  it  can  never  give  of- 
fense, the  expression  of  a  complacently  vegetable  piety 
which  drags  the  honourable  word  in  the  mire.  Think  of 
a  man  sitting  at  the  feast  of  life — that  feast  which  for 
the  hearty  and  full-blooded  is  a  feast  of  fat  things  and 
red  wine — and  pulling  down  all  the  poignancy  and  im- 
mediacy of  the  occasion  by  making  edifying  remarks ! 

So  the  two  instances  are  really  common  examples  of  the 
practice  of  making  excuses  which  Jesus  so  explicitly  re- 
bukes in  the  parable  which  follows.  There  the  call  of  God 
is  definite,  ' '  Come  to  My  supper ' ' ;  and  the  answer  of  men 
is,  "Nay,  but  let  us  do  something  else,  no  matter  what." 
Here,  we  have  two  kindly  but  fatuous  people  who  will 
not  follow  Christ's  lead  but  will  take  a  safer  line  of  their 
own.  The  great  issues  of  life  and  death,  of  sin  and  judg- 
ment, are  under  consideration — let  us  talk  of  something 
else,  and  get  back  among  ordinary  subjects.  As  it  hap- 
pens, in  the  one  case  it  is  a  religous  emotion  that  is  substi- 
tuted for  plain  dealing,  in  the  other  a  religious  platitude. 
But  neither  fervent  emotions  nor  good  thoughts  will  be 
accepted.  Platitudes  are  so  easy  and  emotions  so  interest- 
ing, but  the  facts  are  difficult  and  tragic.  Life  and  death, 
sin  and  sorrow,  must  be  fought  with  greater  weapons.  The 
call  of  Christ  is  to  step  out  boldly  and  face  the  facts,  pre- 
pared for  thought  and  action. 


INTERPRETATION  BY  THE  LONG 

RESULT 

'What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  here- 
after."— St.  John  xiii. 

Jesus  met  with  strange  treatment  from  His  friends.  This 
is  not  the  first  time  that  we  read  of  a  feast  without  cour- 
tesy at  which  He  sat.  But  there  is  a  peculiar  bitterness 
about  this  incident,  in  which  we  see  the  childish  and  sulky 
disciples  doing  their  best  to  ruin  an  occasion  to  which  He 
had  been  looking  forward  with  a  great  desire.  So  He  took, 
in  those  hands  into  which  He  knew  that  the  Father  had 
given  all  things,  a  towel  and  a  jar  of  water;  and  the 
shamed  disciples  felt  the  hands  of  the  Master  on  their 
feet.  Judas  felt  them  without  remonstrance;  but  it  was 
unbearable  for  Peter,  and  in  his  characteristic  fashion  he 
remonstrated.    The  answer  of  Jesus  is  the  text. 

So  here  we  have  one  of  those  apparently  casual  sayings 
which  are  yet  fraught  with  far-reaching  significance.  The 
incidental  remarks  of  Jesus  to-day  become  the  discovery 
of  the  Church  to-morrow,  and  the  next  day  they  are  at 
once  the  despair  and  the  inspiration  of  the  noblest  efforts 
of  mankind.  " There  is  but  one  example,"  says  Lecky, 
"of  a  religion  which  is  not  necessarily  subverted  by  civil- 
ization, and  that  example  is  Christianity  .  .  .  There 
is,  indeed,  nothing  more  wonderful  in  the  history  of  the 
human  race  than  the  way  in  which  that  ideal  has  traversed 
the  lapse  of  years,  acquiring  a  new  strength  and  beauty 
with  each  advance  of  civilization,  and  infusing  its  bene- 

(206) 


INTERPRETATION  BY  THE  LONG  RESULT      207 

ficent  influence  into  every  sphere  of  thought  and  action." 
Jesus  used  to  speak  of  Himself  as  casting  fire  and  sow- 
ing seed  on  the  earth;  two  thousand  years  afterwards,  we 
see  the  fire  blazing  and  the  seed  multiplying  its  harvests. 
It  was  His  habit  to  send  out  wayside  words  which  were 
afterwards  to  give  its  leading  principles  to  human  life. 
He  summed  up  in  Himself  the  purpose  of  the  ages,  and 
sent  out  His  pregnant  words  and  deeds  into  the  future. 
All  later  history  has  been  the  commentary  on  those  words 
and  deeds,  and  Christianity  is  better  understood  to-day 
than  it  was  in  the  days  of  His  flesh. 

So  this  saj^ing,  and  the  incident  which  gave  rise  to  it, 
appeared  at  the  time  not  only  outre  and  even  unseemly, 
but  also  quite  casual  and  insignificant.  Their  significance 
was  waiting  for  future  explanation,  and  they  were  passed 
on  to  the  Church  and  the  world  for  that  disclosure.  Look- 
ing back,  we  can  see  how  that  simple  deed  of  kindly 
ministry  became  first  the  symbol  of  all  service,  and  of 
all  human  love  that  purifies  and  ministers;  until  it  came 
to  be  a  symbol  of  the  whole  person  and  work  of  Christ, 
revealing  the  meaning  of  the  great  mystery  of  His  hu- 
militation  and  of  His  Supreme  service  of  redemption 
through  sacrifice. 

It  is  this  expansion  which  gives  to  this  incident  and 
the  words  their  peculiar  value.  We  are  always  being 
confronted  by  wayside  mysteries,  and  a  great  part  of 
every  life's  experience  is  unintelligible.  Some  of  these  mys- 
teries are  small,  and  only  serve  to  tempt  our  curiosity; 
others  are  great  and  terrible  enough  to  appal  men's  faith 
or  shake  their  reason.  We  take  life  wrongly  when  we 
count  the  mystery  in  itself  an  injustice.  There  is  no  prom- 
ise that  we  shall  ever  come  to  understand  life  at  the 
time,  nor  have  we  any  right  to  such  immediate  understand- 
ing. We  are  in  the  dark,  as  Peter  was,  and  that  is  a 
1 'reason  for  being  sparing  and  modest  in  our  censures  of 


208  THINGS  ETERNAL 

God's  providence."  It  is  not  probable  that  people  who 
are  confessedly  in  the  dark  shall  be  able  usually  to  judge 
aright. 

The  first  and  most  obvious  message  of  the  words  is  their 
assurance  that  Christ's  disciples  may  safely  trust  the 
future.  It  is  evident  that  in  all  things  God  counts  upon 
the  future  and  works  for  the  long  result.  In  His  opera- 
tion there  is  no  indecent  haste  to  finish.  The  deliberate- 
ness  of  creation,  as  the  doctrine  of  evolution  shows  it  mov- 
ing from  the  fire  and  vapour  and  molten  masses  of  the 
beginnings  to  the  fields  of  grain  and  the  peopled  lands,  is  an 
immense  gain  over  the  hurried  succession  of  six  eventful 
days.  The  deliberateness  of  history  is  no  less  remarkable 
and  reassuring,  as  we  trace  the  slow  progress  of  civiliza- 
ion  and  the  gradual  awakening  of  the  social  conscience. 
And  the  story  of  the  life  of  Jesus  affords  abundant  con- 
firmation of  this  heartening  message.  His  absolute  trust 
in  the  future  led  to  a  deliberateness  of  action,  even  at  criti- 
cal moments,  which  often  baffled  the  understanding  of  His 
disciples.  He  took  His  time,  and  refused  to  hurry.  And 
when  the  end  was  at  hand  He  entrusted  himself  and  His 
cause  without  hesitation  to  the  future  after  His  death. 

Christians  have  caught  this  trustful  spirit  toward  the 
future.  Hopeful  speaks  for  Christendom  when  in  Doubt- 
ing Castle  he  says,  "  Who  knows  but  that  God,  who  made 
the  world,  may  cause  that  Giant  Despair  may  die,  or  that 
at  some  time  or  other  he  may  forget  to  lock  us  in ;  or  that 
he  may  in  a  short  time  have  another  of  his  fits  before  us, 
and  may  lose  the  use  of  his  limbs. ' '  These  are  wise  words. 
When  we  are  very  young,  every  trouble  seems  final  and 
without  remedy.  As  life  advances,  we  come  to  realize  how 
infinite  are  the  possibilities  of  any  situation  and  how  rich 
the  years  are  in  surprises  until  the  sense  of  finality  is 
tempered  by  a  never-failing  last  hope  in  the  off-chance. 
The  future  is  full  of  explanations,  and  already  we  have 


INTERPRETATION  BY  THE  LONG  RESULT  209 

been  often  satisfied  regarding  matters  which  seemed  to 
admit  of  no  solution. 

It  has  often  been  remarked  that  in  G.  F.  Watts'  pictures, 
the  figure  of  Time  is  not  the  conventional  old  man,  weary 
and  sinking  to  decay,  but  a  picture  of  unfailing  youth  and 
vigour.  That  is  an  essentially  Christian  view,  and  it  is 
abundantly  confirmed  by  history.  Time  is  young  and 
fresh,  ever  charged  with  new  truth  and  incalculable  vi- 
tality. Christian  faith  sends  us  on  fearlessly  through  the 
days  and  years,  trusting  to  time  and  taking  our  unanswer- 
ed questions  forward. 

Still  we  say  as  we  go, — 

"Strange  to  think  by  the  way, 

Whatever  there  is  to  know, 
That  shall  we  know  one  day." 

Yet  that  assurance  is  not  enough,  for  the  fact  is  that 
life  seldom  fully  explains  itself.  In  order  to  cherish  this 
trust  we  need  some  deeper  conviction,  some  root  of  faith 
out  of  which  this  may  spring.  Without  some  such  second 
trust  the  bravest  optimism  will  often  leave  the  aspect  of 
the  future  ominous  and  dark.  The  text  supplies  this  deep- 
er ground  of  assurance  in  the  great  words  what  I  do.  In 
these  words  Christian  faith  sees  Christ  identifying  Him- 
self with  the  providence  of  God,  and  trusts  to  time  be- 
cause it  is  sure  of  Christ.  We  live,  indeed,  in  the  dark, 
but  we  believe  through  Christ  that  a  divine  plan  is  being 
wrought  out  through  all  experience.  If  God  is  in  it — 
if  He  is  indeed  working  out  Christ's  ends  of  love — then 
all  is  well.  If  He  is  not  in  it  we  may  as  well  give  up  the 
game.  It  is  either  Christ  or  a  bottomless  pit  of  despair; 
life  is  either  "what  I  do,"  or  it  is  the  sport  of  devils. 

Here,  then,  is  a  great  saying  concerning  all  that  may 
happen  to  those  that  believe.  We  know  of  a  better  ally 
than  the  off-chance.  God  is  at  work  upon  our  lives,  and 
our  experiences  are  His  acts.     It  is  enough  for  us  that 


210  THINGS  ETERNAL 

Christ  speaks  of  them  as  "What  I  do."  Though  we  know 
not  now  any  more  than  that,  we  may  live  out  our  lives 
without  fear.  Time  and  history  form  one  long  commen- 
tary on  the  acts  of  God  and  on  the  mystery  of  Jesus 
Christ.  One  day  we  shall  look  back  and  understand  it  all. 
Meantime  we  can  wait  for  explanations,  confident  that  if 
Christ  is  doing  it,  all  is  well. 


TRUST  IN  THE  CHARACTER  OF 
CHRIST 

"What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  here- 
after.— St.  John  xiii.  7. 

In  the  former  study  of  these  words  we  found  the  general 
principles  that  disciples  of  Christ  may  trust  to  time  and 
face  the  future  without  misgiving,  and  that  the  reason 
for  this  confidence  is  in  the  words  "What  I  do."  But  this 
message  is  so  surprising  and  so  far-reaching  that  It  will 
be  worth  our  while  to  trace  it  out  in  some  detail. 

1.  The  commonest  application  of  the  text  is  to  our  ordi- 
nary individual  experience,  especially  of  sorrow.  Many 
a  sore  heart  has  found  comfort  in  the  assurance  that  its 
pain  is  Christ's  doing,  mysterious  for  the  present  but 
waiting  for  an  ultimate  explanation.  The  very  fact  of 
handling  on  the  explanation  to  the  future  is  worthy  of 
attention.  There  will  always  be  much  in  life  that  has  to 
be  accepted  unexplained — much  that  even  our  faith  in 
Christ  does  not  explain.  He  Himself  felt  this  with  His 
disciples.  There  were  things  He  could  not  make  them 
understand.  He  used  to  wish  He  could,  and  we  feel  the 
pain  of  suppression  is  such  sayings  as  "I  have  yet  many 
things  to  say  unto  you,  but  ye  cannot  bear  them  now." 
Often  it  w^ould  be  no  use  trying  to  tell  these  things,  for  He 
could  not  make  us  in  any  sense  understand.  We  are  not 
yet  fit  to  know,  not  big  enough  yet  to  look  steadily  upon 
the  face  of  life  and  to  glory  in  tribulations. 

Yet  one  thing  He  has  told  us — "I  do  it."     And  that 

(211) 


212  THINGS  ETERNAL 

is  the  last  word  that  can  be  said  to  sorrow,  for  it  shifts 
the  burden  from  our  understanding  over  to  the  character 
of  Christ.  In  this  He  has  made  Himself  ultimately  re- 
sponsible for  all  that  happens  to  us.  We  dwell  upon  the 
hardness  of  circumstances,  upon  the  world  and  the  powers 
of  darkness,  upon  the  our  own  mistakes  or  follies  or  sins. 
These  may  indeed  be  the  occasions  of  much  suffering ;  but 
beyond  these,  in  every  hour  of  sorrow,  there  still  lies  the 
will  of  God.    This,  after  all  is  said,  still  is  "What  I  do." 

It  is  equally  legitimate  for  glad  hearts  to  apply  the 
words  to  their  happiness.  In  very  bright  hours  we  are 
almost  afraid  to  acknowledge  our  belief  in  life,  and  our 
happy  sense  of  the  world.  Fears  invade,  and  we  ask 
whether  future  experience  will  honour  our  faith  in  life; 
to  which  Christianity  replies  that  experience  worketh  not 
disillusion  but  hope.  In  spite  of  much  sorrow,  life  is 
better  than  any  of  its  first  promises.  The  fugitive  and 
sudden  glories  change  to  a  settled  peace  and  sense  of  well- 
being.  The  early  momentary  and  passionate  flashes  of 
joy  grow  to  a  constant  steady  exhilaration.  The  sense  of 
a  "haunting  strangeness  in  beauty"  ripens  into  the  sweet 
familiarity  and  homeliness  of  love.  Thus,  for  every  whole- 
some nature,  young  pleasures  undergo  their  change  "into 
something  rich  and  strange."  Our  faith  in  life  was  abun- 
dantly justified,  and  the  half  was  never  told  at  first.  The 
years  have  led  the  happy  spirit  onward,  exploring  the 
pleasures  that  are  at  God 's  right  hand.  Our  first  delighted 
moments  gave  us  no  hint  of  the  wealth  of  goodwill  from 
which  the  Father  was  drawing,  or  the  kindness  of  His 
love.  What  He  is  doing  we  know  not  at  the  time,  but  we 
understand  more  fully  afterwards. 

2.  A  still  wider  field  opens  before  us  in  respect  of  ser- 
vice. The  incident  in  the  upper  room  seemed  slight,  but 
it  was  full  of  social  significance.  That  day  they  thought  he 
was  only  washing  the  feet  of  a  few  disciples.     Time  has 


TRUST  IN  THE  CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST      213 

shown  that  He  was  freeing  slaves,  building  hospitals,  found- 
ing charities,  inaugurating  social  science,  educating  the 
social  conscience  of  mankind. 

The  service  of  man  is  a  matter  that  has  been  but  slowly 
understood.  At  first,  knowing  not  what  he  had  done  that 
day,  the  tendency  was  to  mere  imitation  of  the  act,  in 
voluntary  humility,  poverty,  and  ascetic  discipline.  But 
His  words  foretold  not  imitation  but  development,  and 
told  us  in  this  sense  also  to  trust  the  future,  to  which  he 
had  committed  his  pregnant  deed.  This  should  set  for  us 
our  attitude  towards  new  and  strange  developments  of  the 
service  of  man  by  man.  We  cannot  expect  these  to  re- 
peat endlessly  the  old  forms  of  service,  but  should  be  pre- 
pared to  welcome  in  new  forms  the  ancient  works  of  Christ. 

Nothing  is  more  striking  than  the  direction  in  which 
the  ideals  of  self-sacrifice  have  been  moving.  Beginning 
with  the  idea  of  self-denial  for  its  own  sake  and  for  the 
discipline  solely  of  the  person  who  undertook  it,  it  grad- 
ually passed  out  into  more  and  more  useful  ideals  which 
measured  its  value  by  the  help  it  brought  to  others.  When 
we  claim  development  for  the  words  of  Jesus  we  mean 
that  the  Christian  ideals  of  the  service  of  man  must  have 
room  to  grow,  to  be  original,  to  adapt  themselves  to  the 
requirements  of  each  successive  age.  Thus  in  each  new 
doctrine  of  economics,  in  each  new  departure  in  social 
work,  and  in  each  new  phase  of  civilization  and  philan- 
thropy, men  are  simply  coming  to  know  long  afterwards 
what  Jesus  did  that  day  when  He  washed  the  feet  of  His 
disciples.  And  each  new  discovery  of  that  sort  is  but  a 
new  declaration  of  Christ's  astonishing  reversal  of  the 
traditional  conceptions  of  master  and  servant.  The  master 
has  come  to  mean  the  man  who  can  do  the  best  service. 
He  is  the  greatest  among  us  who  is  the  most  sympathetic  in 
understanding  and  the  readiest  in  helping  the  need  of  his 
fellow-man. 

3.  The  words  are  also  applicable  to  the  whole  of  what 


214  THINGS  ETERNAL 

Christ  was  then  doing  for  the  redemption  of  man.  His 
enemies  were  bringing  the  cross  to  Him,  with  very  definite 
and  clearly  understood  meanings  of  shame  and  cruelty 
attached  to  it.  But  He  took  the  cross  out  of  the  hands  of 
His  enemies,  made  it  His  own,  and  attached  to  it  a  totally 
different  set  of  meanings  from  that  time  onward.  The 
church  has  known,  as  none  of  the  twelve  could  possibly 
know  that  day,  what  it  was  that  He  did. 

A  similar  development  may  be  seen  in  the  understanding 
of  redemption  by  every  one  of  the  redeemed.  "When  first 
Christ  came  to  us  to  deal  with  our  sins,  to  hear  our  con- 
fession and  to  handle  our  sordid  lives,  the  heart  cried  out 
in  wonder — Ah,  Lord,  Thou  has  washed  my  feet!  "We 
thought  we  knew  what  He  had  done;  we  may  even  have 
framed  a  pretty  complete  theological  expression  of  it ;  but 
in  reality  we  did  not  know  the  richer  fullness  of  meaning 
which  time  was  to  unfold.  At  first,  our  Christian  faith 
had  to  be  stated  at  its  minimum — how  little  can  I  have 
of  it,  and  yet  legitimately  claim  to  be  a  Christian  ?  After- 
wards, the  soul  wonders  at  the  unexpected  vistas  of  ex- 
perence  that  open  out  before  it  as  it  advances  further  into 
the  fullness  of  the  Christian  life.  At  first  it  knows  only  of 
the  healing  of  the  spirit 's  wound ;  at  last  it  perceives  with 
astonishment  the  glory  of  the  Lord.  At  the  first,  it  is 
but  a  hungry  soul  that  has  been  fed ;  at  the  last  it  stands 
in  the  light  before  the  throne  of  God,  singing  the  song  of  the 
redeemed. 

Thus  the  Christian  life  is  a  very  wonderful  thing,  a 
reticent  and  unfolding  thing.  It  never  discloses  itself 
at  the  beginning,  nor  will  any  period  of  time  suffice  to 
reveal  Jo  any  soul  fully  all  the  meaning  of  the  service 
which  Christ  rendered  to  men.  It  will  take  a  life-time, 
yes  all  the  lives  of  Christendom,  to  explain  what  he  did 
that  day.  What  he  did  for  us  we  know  not  yet,  but  we 
may  know  more  and  more  of  it  if  we  are  faithful  and  de- 
sirous. 


THE  EXPLORATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN 

LIFE 

"Your  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God." — Colossians  iii.  3. 
"Continue  in  prayer. — Colossians  iv.  2. 

These  words  were  addressed  to  the  Collosians,  a  people 
peculiarly  open  to  the  attacks  of  incipient  gnosticism.  The 
Gnostics  sought  after  hidden  mysteries  until  all  the  world 
about  them  was  uncanny — full  of  whispers,  presences  emerg- 
ing out  of  the  mist  of  dreams,  wraiths  of  thought.  Here 
Paul  offers  them  something  in  Christianity  that  will  ap- 
peal to  such  tastes.  There  is  no  need,  he  would  say,  to  go 
past  Christ  for  mysteries.  He,  and  men's  relations  with 
Him,  are  the  deepest  mysteries  of  all. 

The  words  were  taken  up  by  Christian  theology  in  its 
dictrine  of  the  "Mystical  Union."  We  died  with  Him, 
and  the  old  life  passed  away,  the  life  that  had  been  mas- 
tered and  bewitched  by  the  world  and  directed  by  its 
instincts.  In  its  stead  a  new  life  was  born,  higher  and 
purer  than  the  old,  which  we  share  with  the  risen  Christ. 
But  this  is  no  longer  a  comprehensible  or  even  a  visible  life. 
There  is  a  secret  element  in  spiritual  communion  of  which 
the  world  knows  nothing.  It  is  hidden  with  Christ,  who 
is  Himself  hidden  in  God — a  very  mystical  conception. 

Christian  experience  confirms  this  though  it  does  not 
explain  it.  Our  faith  and  character  are  safe  in  that  great 
hiding-place — safe  from  enemies  of  doubt  or  of  temptation 
that  would  rob  us  of  them.     Like  John  Bunyan,  we  say 

(215) 


216  THINGS  ETERNAL 

with  full  security, ' '  My  Righteousness  is  on  high. ' '  From 
ourselves  even  is  this  secret  hidden.  No  Christian  pro- 
fesses to  understand  his  own  spiritual  experience  or  to 
be  able  fully  to  rationalize  it.  It  all  ends  ultimately  in 
the  mystery  of  the  Divine.  The  great  change  from  sin 
and  the  desire  of  sin  to  the  grace  that  makes  all  things 
new  is  not  a  matter  of  our  own  doing,  nor  is  it  an  effect 
of  natural  causes  we  can  trace.  Let  anyone  look  back  to 
the  great  event  of  his  spiritual  new  birth;  he  will  be  very 
sure  of  God  in  it,  but  the  rest  will  be  lost  in  mystery. 

This  is  indeed  a  theologcal  doctrine,  but  it  is  no  theo- 
logical fiction.  "  The  hiddenness  of  perfect  things  "  is 
a  broad  fact  of  common  knowledge.  And  confessedly,  the 
most  deeply  hidden  of  all  things  is  the  meaning  of  our 
own  life.  By  many  diverse  methods — by  hunger  and  pain 
and  love,  by  all  our  blind  gropings,  by  our  restlessness  of 
search,  by  "the  infinite  craving  for  an  infinite  filling" — 
we  are  lured  on  towards  an  ultimate  goal.  Our  life  is 
hid :  we  are  out  on  the  life-long  search  for  it. 

But  often,  in  the  world's  most  crowded  streets, 
But  often,  in  the  din  of  strife, 
There  rises  an  unspeakable  desire 
After  the  knowledge  of  our  buried  life. 

Thus,  by  its  own  exquisite  confession,  is  humanity  disap- 
pointed in  its  search,  until  only  the  more  strenuous  seekers 
retain  the  faith  that  there  is  anything  to  find.  But  the 
Christian  knows  where  that  treasure  lies.  He  is  confident 
of  finding  himself  at  last.  Day  by  day,  with  recurring  sur- 
prise, he  discovers  some  new  aspect  of  that  for  which  he 
seeks,  or  at  least  some  trace  of  it.  He  knows — he  is  the 
one  man  on  earth  who  does  know — the  secret  of  the  buried 
life.    His  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God. 

Under  this  light  prayer  takes  on  a  new  significance  and 
interest.  It  is  the  search  for  hidden  treasure.  We  all  know 
how  stimulating  a  motif  this  search  has  been  in  romance. 


THE  EXPLORATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE     217 

Which  of  us  has  not  seen  the  ingots  shining  in  the  light 
of  fires  of  broken  wreakage  on  a  far-off  shore!  Such  is 
the  romance  of  prayer,  in  which  we  see  the  soul  wander- 
ing in  dim  mysterious  regions,  seeking  for  the  hidden 
treasure  of  its  true  life.  There  are  various  aspects  of 
prayer.  It  may  be  regarded  as  ritual,  a  matter  of  cere- 
mony artistically  correct.  It  may  be  regarded  as  a  prob- 
lem in  metaphysics,  opening  curious  questions  as  to  the 
uniformity  of  law.  These  are  narrow  conceptions  compared 
with  this.  The  horizons  of  our  thought  and  imagination 
sweep  far  out  as  we  think  of  prayer  as  man's  search  for 
himself  through  the  vast  universe.  This  explorer — this 
huntsman  of  his  own  soul — speeds  along  the  whole  line  of 
his  activities,  across  the  whole  field  of  his  interests,  until,  in 
some  hour  perhaps  of  difficulty  and  of  strain,  he  finds 
the  sudden  revelation  of  the  meaning  of  unintelligible  ex- 
perience, and  of  the  presence  of  an  unseen  Friend.  In  the 
heart  of  Christ  the  man  has  discovered  his  own  life.  He 
may  not  be  able  to  give  reasons,  but  he  understands  and 
is  quite  sure.  He  can  go  back  now,  and  endure  and  be 
glad.  Or  again,  at  times  when  all  is  in  perplexity,  the 
very  exercise  of  prayer  shows  him  what  he  would  be  at. 
Free  from  prejudices,  delusions,  and  temptations,  the  mere 
act  of  turning  to  the  Highest  gives  him  the  truest  ex- 
pression of  himself,  the  fullest  and  most  exalted  utterance 
of  experience.  He  has  sought  and  found  his  hidden  life. 
John  Knox 's  great  words  are  true :  l  i  We  come  to  seeke  our 
Lyfe  and  Perfection  in  Jesus  Christ.' ' 

The  truth  of  this  is  most  obvious  in  regard  to  the  high- 
est reaches  of  life,  the  moral  and  the  spiritual.  A  sensi- 
tive and  living  conscience,  the  rich  and  wonderful  sense 
of  forgiveness,  moral  strength  and  resoluteness  for  the 
future,  and  beyond  all  the  promise  of  eternal  life  in  God — 
these  are  life  indeed,  such  as  the  world  knows  not.  Yet 
to-day  let  us  rather  keep  to  the  lower  ranges.    For  these 


218  THINGS  ETERNAL 

higher  ones  are  more  commonly  supposed  to  be  accessible 
only  by  learning  the  secret  of  the  Lord:  the  lower,  men 
think  they  can  explore  apart  from  Him. 

1.  Physical  life,  in  which  "  life  "  means  "health." 
Much  harm  has  been  done  by  that  anaemic  presentation  of 
the  Christian  life  which  gives  the  impression  of  something 
spectral  and  as  far  as  possible  disembodied.  It  is  a  great 
mistake  to  imagine  that  to  be  an  invalid  is  in  itself  a 
Christian  grace.  Certainly  Jesus  held  no  such  view.  The 
effect  of  His  life  was  on  all  hands  to  bring  men  back 
from  sickness  to  a  condition  keenly  alive  to  the  earth  and 
its  work  and  charm.  He  rejoiced  not  in  weakness  and 
disease  but  in  the  coursing  of  blood  and  the  clean  strength 
of  the  body.  His  gospel  was  emphatically  the  gospel  of 
health. 

Our  bodily  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God,  and  that  is 
among  the  prizes  which  prayer  finds  and  secures.  Not  only 
does  the  habit  of  prayer  tend  to  restrain  a  man  from 
hurtful  excesses.  He  who  prays  learns  to  hold  his  physi- 
cal life  more  precious  and  to  regard  it  as  a  sacred  trust, 
knowing  its  worth  better  than  other  men.  It  puzzles  us 
to  see  the  vast  and  anxious  attention  which  some  men, 
whose  life  is  so  poor  and  meaningless  an  affair,  bestow 
upon  their  health.  The  discovery  of  an  infinite  signifi- 
cance and  value  for  our  earthly  life  is  the  only  justifica- 
tion for  such  tender  care. 

As  to  the  question  of  the  effect  of  prayer  upon  the  con- 
dition of  one's  physical  health,  it  is  a  difficult  question, 
and  anything  that  can  be  said  about  it  must  be  rather  in 
the  nature  of  a  practical  hint  than  of  a  scientific  explana- 
tion. Here,  more  than  in  most  regions,  it  is  necessary  to 
avoid  the  extravagances  of  half-educated  or  rash  specula- 
tion. Science  is  as  truly  God's  gift  and  will  as  prayer  is, 
and  any  prayer  which  sets  itself  up  as  a  substitute  for 
medical  skill  is  mere  presumption.     Nor  can  prayer  and 


THE  EXPLORATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE     219 

medicine  combined  effect  more  than  a  certain  limited 
amount.  The  last  factor  in  the  case  is  the  will  of  God, 
and  our  times  are  in  His  hand. 

Yet  prayer  may  be  a  real  means  of  finding  a  healthy 
life.  So  closely  are  body  and  mind  connected,  that  the 
very  moods  which  prayer  induces  will  react  in  health  upon 
the  body.  By  prayer  peace  may  come  upon  the  spirit ;  and 
nature,  hindered  by  tingling  nerves  and  agitations,  may 
get  her  chance.  In  prayer  the  thought  and  desire,  set 
upon  healthy  conditions,  may  awaken  the  will  and  pur- 
pose, and  the  chances  of  health  are  vastly  better  for  those 
who  will  to  be  well  than  for  those  who  have  lost  heart 
and  energy.  For  the  rest,  the  abstract  question  of  how 
prayer  is  answered  is,  and  must  always  remain,  obscure. 
Sir  Oliver  Lodge  strikes  the  true  note  when  he  says  that 
the  fatalistic  attitude  is  the  unfilial  one.  We  are  but 
children  in  such  matters,  and  the  choice  is  between  being 
"solemn  little  prigs, "  superior  to  faith;  or  simple  chil- 
dren who  say  to  their  father  what  they  want.  We  shall 
never  get  beyond  that  to  any  higher  thought,  and  if  we 
insist  on  passing  on  from  it,  it  must  be  to  a  lower  one.  This, 
at  least,  is  true,  that  the  life  even  of  our  flesh  is  hid  with 
Christ  in  God,  and  that  in  prayer  we  are  approaching  its 
quickening  springs. 

2.  Emotional  life,  in  which  "life"  means  harmony  and 
peace.  The  first  promise  of  Christianity  is  keen  vitality, 
by  which  it  at  once  distinguishes  itself  from  all  such  re- 
ligions as  aim  at  the  death  of  desire  or  the  callousness  of 
the  steeled  heart.  But  the  vitality  of  the  feelings  is  apt 
to  produce  a  wild  travesty  of  life  rather  than  a  controlled 
and  steady  flow  of  fitting  emotions.  The  daily  work  and 
the  daily  battle  are  intended  to  move  to  the  sound  of  ap- 
propriate music  of  moods  and  feelings.  Too  often  that 
music  rises  to  discordant  shrieking,  or  sinks  to  the  depres- 
sion of  a  funeral  march.    At  such  times  of  random  tempers 


220  THINGS  ETERNAL 

or  sullen  distemper,  we  say  "we  are  not  ourselves,"  and 
we  say  truly.     Again  prayer  lead  us  to  find  ourselves. 

That  hidden  life  which  we  go  to  find  in  Christ  is  not 
passionless.  The  moods  are  legitimate  elements  in  ex- 
perience, though  they  require  harmony  and  control.  When 
the  strain  is  felt,  before  the  mood  expresses  itself,  go  to 
find  it  as  it  is  in  Christ.  There  it  will  be  safe  for  you 
to  be  true  to  it,  and  frankly  let  it  find  expression.  So  the 
depression  of  drudgery  will  become  the  earnest  enthusi- 
asm of  labour.  Battle  will  change  from  a  squabble  to  a 
crusade.  Sullenness  will  change  to  sympathy  that  feels 
the  sense  of  tears  in  mortal  things.  Exasperation  will 
lose  its  blindness  and  yield  instead  a  swift  and  brilliant 
vision  of  the  mind  of  Christ  regarding  wrong. 

3.  Social  life,  in  which  "life"  means  love  and  service. 
Our  social  instincts  tell  us  of  a  larger  self  which  includes 
our  relations  to  others.  Social  science  is  doing  noble  work 
in  its  efforts  to  understand  and  adjust  these  relations.  But 
in  the  meantime  generous  and  earnest  men  are  often  sorely 
perplexed.  To  suggest  prayer  as  a  substitute  for  sound 
economics  is  mere  cant,  which  those  who  feel  the  pres- 
sure of  present  conditions  will  justifiably  treat  with  scorn. 
Yet  that  which  lies  at  the  root  of  all  these  disputes  is 
not  details  either  of  present  injustice  or  of  future  amend- 
ment. It  is  the  spirit  of  men's  minds  towards  one  an- 
other.   In  that  lies  our  true  social  life. 

That  life  of  right  social  spirit  is  hid  with  Christ  in 
God.  It  is  found  neither  in  debate  nor  in  legislation. 
Prayer  alone  can  find  it.  Those  finer  understandings  in 
which  class  prejudices  and  dislikes  vanish;  the  discovery 
of  those  common  interests,  rights  and  duties,  joys  and 
sorrows,  which  are  the  same  to  all  men;  that  recognition  of 
common  worth,  in  which  consists  the  real  brotherhood 
of  men — these  are  the  very  spirit  of  Christ,  and  prayer 
in  the  means  of  their  discovery. 


THE  EXPLORATION  OF  THE  HIDDEN  LIFE    221 

So,  through  prayer,  we  pass  on  to  that  widest  charity 
which  is  the  true  spirit  of  public  life.  Paul  exhorts  that 
"  intercessions  and  givings  of  thanks  be  made  for  all 
men."  Such  intercession  if  it  be  intelligent  and  honest 
will  open  the  intercessor's  heart  to  the  sorrows  of  his 
fellow-men.  Such  thanks-giving  will  be  impossible  except 
to  those  who  are  prepared  to  right  their  wrongs.  That  is 
the  true  hearty  Christian  spirit— intercessions  and  thanks- 
giving for  all  this  crowded  world  of  human  life.  It  is 
not  pity,  far  less  scorn,  but  the  true  spirit  of  public  life, 
the  insight  and  goodwill  without  which  no  man's  man- 
hood is  complete.  In  prayer  we  go  to  find  that  life  also, 
hid  with  Christ  in  God. 

In  a  word,  our  true  life  in  all  its  relations  is  hid  with 
Christ  in  God.  The  solutions  of  critical  problems,  the 
answers  to  great  questions,  require  more  than  painful 
thought.  They  require  that  we  be  our  true  selves  to  think 
and  act  truly  among  them.  By  prayer  we  go  to  seek  and 
find  our  true  selves  in  Him.  In  His  will  is  our  peace,  in 
His  favour  our  life,  in  His  love  our  power  of  loving  wisely 
so  that  we  may  rightly  serve  our  generation. 


WEARINESS  OF  RESPONSIBILITY 

"Make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants." — Luke  xv.  19. 

The  motive  for  these  words  has  been  variously  understood. 
Some  have  accused  the  prodigal  of  lingering  self -righteous- 
ness; as  if  he  were  demanding  to  work  for  his  living, 
too  proud  to  receive  anything  on  charity.  Others  have 
taken  them  to  be  a  promise  of  new  obedience,  in  which  he 
asked  for  a  chance  of  showing  how  genuine  was  the  change 
of  heart.  More  usually  they  have  been  understood  to 
be  simply  an  expression  of  humiliation  and  of  shame.  He 
had  forfeited  his  sonship,  and  entertained  no  idea  of  com- 
plete restoration.  He  could  only  hope  now  to  be  admitted 
as  a  servant  into  the  house  where  he  had  once  lived  as 
a  son. 

No  doubt  this  last  is  the  view  that  is  truest  to  the  story. 
Certainly  there  is  no  ground  for  the  suggestion  of  self- 
righteous  pride  or  the  desire  for  wages.  But  there  is  a 
further  suggestion  in  the  words,  which  takes  us  far  in 
among  the  facts  of  human  nature.  The  request  was  not 
the  mere  consent  to  a  disagreeable  position  chosen  because 
it  was  the  lower  place.  It  was  a  positive  choice  of  that 
position,  as  the  one  which  he  preferred  to  occupy. 

He  asked  for  hired  service  because  he  was  sick  of  free- 
dom. There  had  been  a  time  when  freedom  was  the  only 
thing  he  wanted.  The  desire  of  it  had  led  him  away  from 
his  home  to  the  far  land.    The  routine  of  home,  the  tedious- 

(222) 


WEARINESS    OF   RESPONSIBILITY        223 

ness  of  that  dull  person  his  elder  brother,  the  restraint 
of  a  younger  son  living  in  his  father's  house. — these  had 
become  intolerable  to  his  young  blood.  He  heard  the  call 
of  the  sparkling  world  beyond  the  horizon  of  the  home- 
stead. There  a  man  might  live  without  restrictions  and 
go  as  he  pleased. 

He  went,  a  lad  lighthearted  and  easily  seduced.  He 
found  his  freedom,  and  did  what  he  liked.  Soon  all  guid- 
ance of  his  affairs  was  gone,  and  he  was  whirled  along  in 
a  rush  of  pleasures,  the  mere  sport  of  circumstances  and 
of  lusts.  Freedom  is  a  noble  thing,  if  it  be  accompanied 
by  a  clear  mind  and  a  powerful  will  that  keeps  its  self- 
control.  Freedom  is  a  grand  ideal  to  dream  and  boast 
and  sing  about.  It  is  claimed  as  the  native  right  and 
heritage  of  every  man,  and  it  seems  little  short  of  sacri- 
lege even  to  qualify  that  claim.  Yet  it  must  be  qualified 
if  it  is  to  be  anything  but  a  misleading  and  dangerous 
fallacy.  It  is  true  in  the  sense  that  until  he  has  attained 
to  liberty  no  man  has  reached  his  ideal  manhood,  or  in 
any  full  measure  come  to  his  own.  But  it  is  not  true 
that  for  all  men,  or  for  many  men  at  their  present  stage, 
full  liberty  is  a  right  which  it  is  just  for  them  to  claim, 
or  which  it  would  be  safe  to  grant  them.  To  be  free  to 
say  what  one  likes  and  to  do  what  one  likes  is  not  the  great 
matter:  but,  as  Matthew  Arnold  was  reminded  us,  the 
great  matter  is  that  what  one  says  and  does  when  free 
shall  be  worthy  and  fitting.  Meanwhile  the  very  facts  of 
education  and  of  civilization  are  standing  proofs  that  only 
by  learning  to  obey  can  men  attain  to  a  condition  in 
which  freedom  is  safe  in  their  hands.  Premature  freedom 
is  both  a  dangerous  and  a  costly  gift. 

So  this  prodigal  had  claimed  his  freedom  before  he  was 
capable  of  managing  it,  and  it  had  utterly  wrecked  his 
life.  Now  he  is,  as  well  he  may  be,  afraid  of  it,  afraid 
to  trust  himself. 


224  THINGS  ETERNAL 

Me  this  unchartered  freedom  tires; 
I  feel  the  weight  of  chance-desires. 

He  genuinely  and  ardently  longs  for  some  one  to  control 
him,  and  it  is  this  change  of  heart  that  redeems  the  inci- 
dent. Otherwise  the  return,  as  a  last  resort  when  all  else 
is  impossible,  bears  the  inevitable  stamp  of  meanness. 
While  the  prodigal  is  still  confident  and  cheerful  about 
his  prospects  of  living  a  better  life  in  future,  the  case 
is  hopeless.  But  the  meanest  return  as  a  last  resort  when 
all  else  has  failed,  is  redeemed  from  its  meanness  by  that 
loss  of  self-confidence  which  is  the  test  of  true  repentance. 
Here,  his  confidence  is  broken  indeed.  His  shame  has 
led  to  a  complete  self -distrust.  Mr.  Huxley  expressed  the 
wish  that  he  could  be  wound  up  each  day  like  a  watch, 
and  so  be  sure  of  going  rightly.  Such  a  wish  cannot  in- 
deed form  a  standard  for  any  normal  condition  of  life. 
A  far  more  normal  standard  is  Emerson's  injunction, 
' '  Trust  thyself, ' '  which  we  have  already  quoted.  But  here 
the  words  of  the  shamed  adventurer  are  natural  and  right. 
They  are  the  expression  of  that  passionate  longing  for  a 
master  and  a  guide  which  comes  when  shame  has  brought 
distrust  of  self.  The  prodigal,  desire  for  a  better  life,  can 
find  no  hope  of  it  but  in  a  stronger  will  and  a  sounder 
judgment  than  his  own  to  come  between  him  and  tempta- 
tion.   His  heart  cries  out  the  cry  of  the  humble : — 

Shew  me  what  I  have  to  do; 
Every  hour  my  strength  renew. 

This  then  is  the  mood  of  the  returning  prodigal,  who  has 
his  speech  prepared  for  the  meeting  with  his  father.  But 
that  speech  was  never  uttered.  Our  programmes  of  re- 
ligous  experience  are  never  carried  out  literally  There  is 
a  better  way  than  we  in  our  shame  had  thought  of,  for 
God  is  always  better  than  our  thoughts,  or  even  our  de- 
sires. When  father  and  son  have  met,  there  is  no  longer  any 


WEARINESS   OF  RESPONSIBILITY        225 

word  of  hired  servants.  Fear,  shame,  distrust  of  self, 
the  burden  of  responsibility,  are  all  swallowed  up  in  love. 
One  sight  of  the  father's  face,  the  great  embrace  of  the 
beloved  arm  thrown  around  his  rags,  the  tears  that  fall 
upon  his  neck — these  settle  all  the  problems  which  in  cold 
blood  we  settle  otherwise. 

Love  took  up  the  harp  of  Life,  and  smote  on  all  the  chords  with 

might; 
Smote  the  chord  of  Self,  that,  trembling,  pass'd  in  music  out  of 

sight. 

Self -distrust  even  has  passed,  for  love  has  found  a  na- 
tural and  happy  solution.  No  hard  responsibilities,  to 
which  our  moral  character  is  inadequate,  are  thrust  upon 
us;  no  unbearable  lonely  freedom  is  given  us  to  manage 
rightly.  The  responsibilities  of  life  in  the  father's  house 
are  different  from  those  of  the  far  country.  For  the 
father  is  there,  and  we  have  learned  at  last  to  love  him, 
and  that  love  has  become  a  far  more  commanding  law  than 
hired  service  can  ever  know. 

That  is  the  beautiful  old  story,  and  there  are  multitudes 
who  to-day  understand  it  only  too  well.  Their  adventure 
in  life  has  not  been  successful,  and  now  a  great  longing 
has  come  upon  them  for  rest  from  responsibilities  which 
they  have  failed  to  meet. 

Some  come  to  this  when  sin  has  proved  vain.  They 
have  tried  self-will,  and  refused  to  follow  the  precepts  by 
which  others  live.  At  last  they  have  found  out  what 
incompetent  fools  they  were,  and  how  impossible  a  matter 
life  becomes  when  it  has  revolted  against  its  ancient  laws. 
This  is  an  inevitable  element  in  true  shame  and  penitence. 
Life  has  proved  too  much  for  them.  Its  very  positions  of 
honour  and  of  trust  condemn  them,  as  they  realize  their 
failure,  and  they  are  overwhelmed  by  a  hopeless  sense 
of  their  own  moral  and  spiritual  inadequacy. 

Others  reach  this  state  of  mind  rather  from  a  sense  of 


226  THINGS  ETERNAL 

the  sheer  difficulty  of  the  situation.  Their  constitution  and 
their  circumstances  are  not  equal  to  the  tasks  they  have  to 
face.  Life  grows  more  and  more  perplexing,  and  its  re- 
sponsibilities more  burdensome.  They  have  come  to  this 
that  they  often  cannot  tell  the  right  course  from  the 
wrong;  and  now  they  are  too  tired  to  face  the  situation 
and  are  utterly  depressed  by  the  sense  of  their  own  incapa- 
city. 

At  such  times  the  soul  cries  out  for  a  master  and  a  law. 
Give  us  our  orders  and  we  shall  obey  them.  Let  the  com- 
mand be  definite,  the  direction  unmistakable,  and  we  shall 
not  rebel.  However  hard  the  conditions  may  be,  they  can- 
not be  so  intolerable  as  the  weary  and  futile  attempt  to 
choose  and  govern. 

But  God  insists.  He  will  give  no  external  law  written 
on  tables  of  stone.  He  will  write  his  laws  only  on  our 
hearts.  He  will  not  call  us  servants  even  in  answer  to 
our  prayers.  He  has  called  us  friends  and  sons  of  his 
household,  and  he  will  not  consent  to  any  less  honourable 
relation. 

But  then  the  love  which  Christ  brings  and  reveals  makes 
all  the  difference.  That  love  is  indeed  the  fulfilling  of 
the  law,  as  all  those  that  are  labouring  and  heavy  laden 
may  discover.  They  are  not  indeed  permitted  to  lay 
down  their  burdens,  but  they  find  God  bearing  their  bur- 
dens with  them.  Love  changes  the  look  and  the  feeling  of 
all  things.  No  responsibility  is  intolerable  when  in  the 
Father  we  have  found  also  the  Master  and  the  Guide. 
Under  that  lordship  of  love — full  of  allowances,  rich  in 
encouragement,  tender  with  compassion — we  can  find  heart 
to  face  anything  that  life  sets  before  us. 


THE   HERITAGE    OF    FEAR 

(All  Saints.) 

"Thou  hast  given  me  the  heritage  of  those  that  fear  Thy  name." 

Psalms  lxi.  5. 

There  is  a  continuity  in  the  history  of  religion  which 
binds  together  the  most  widely  diverse  ages  and  types 
of  thought.  Each  phase,  with  its  peculiar  emphasis,  exists 
not  only  for  the  truth  it  can  declare  and  the  character  it 
can  produce  at  the  time,  but  also  for  its  contribution  of 
permanent  elements  to  the  growing  faith. 

There  is  nothing  so  characteristic  of  primitive  religious 
ideas  as  fear.     "  Terror  is  everywhere  the  beginning  of 
religion, "  and  the  process  by  which  terror  is  exchanged 
for  reasonable  and  loving  communion  is  one  of  the  most 
instructive  studies  in  the  world.     Science  has  its  part  in 
this  process,  reducing  steadily  the  region  of  the  unknown, 
where  man's  terrors  mainly  dwell.     But  religion  is  the 
supreme   agent   of   enfranchisement,   and   while  growing 
knowledge  is  steadily  reducing  fear,  perfect  love  will  ul- 
timately cast  it  out.     In  the  Old  Testament  we  see  this 
increasing  emancipation.    Fear  of  God  is  the  obvious  back- 
ground, but  with  increasing  frequency  and  boldness  the 
voice  of  prophecy  cries  to  man  "Fear  not."     The  same 
process  may  be  discerned  in  later  times,  with  their  tran- 
sition from  the  gloomy  and  spectral  night  of  mediasval 
dogmas  to  the  daylight  of  the  reformation,  and  again  from 
the  harsher  and  more  judicial  forms  of  sixteenth-century 
doctrine  to  the  kindly  light  of  God's  fatherhood  which  is 
the  characteristic  form  of  faith  to-day. 

(227) 


228  THINGS  ETERNAL 

But  nothing  which  has  entered  into  the  faith  and  been 
a  vital  element  in  the  Christianity  of  strong  men  of  the 
past,  has  ever  been  in  vain ;  nor  have  any  such  superseded 
elements  ever  been  wholly  discarded.  They  enter  into 
the  very  essence  of  the  faith  and  give  to  its  future  forms 
some  of  their  richest  and  most  valuable  qualities.  Fear  is 
gone,  in  its  crude  and  ancient  sense,  but  the  heritage  of 
fear  is  among  the  most  priceless  parts  of  our  inheritance 
from  the  past.  ,  , 

The  inheritance  of  fear  is  manifold.  It  is  worth  our 
while  to  examine  it  in  some  detail: — 

1.  Fear  itself  persisting. — Fear,  we  said,  is  gone;  but 
that  can  never  be  completely  true.  It  is  a  dangerous 
world,  whose  territories  are  but  half -explored  as  yet,  and 
he  must  be  but  a  foolish  traveller  who  walks  on  light- 
heartedly  with  his  eyes  on  the  clouds.  The  consequences  of 
wandering  and  of  stumbling  are  manifest  continually  in 
the  dooms  of  the  lost  and  the  fallen.  Science  has  con- 
quered superstition,  and  civilization  has  cleared  the  road 
of  life  from  many  dangers  that  formerly  beset  it.  Yet 
the  result  of  this  has  only  been  to  make  men  realize  more 
fully  the  tremendous  seriousness  of  the  physical  and  social 
consequences  of  evil,  and  so  to  concentrate  fear  in  the 
region  of  inward  rather  than  in  that  of  outward  dangers. 
Here  the  most  recent  science  is  at  one  with  the  most  an- 
cient religion,  and  the  Greek  tragedies  and  Hebrew  judg- 
ments are  seen  even  more  inexorably  than  of  old  working 
themselves  out  in  our  modern  hospitals  and  laboratories. 
For  the  wise  man,  human  life  is  still  ringed  round  with 
dangers  of  which  he  is  aware,  and  which  he  is  wise  enough 
to  fear.  And  his  religion  will  still  bear  the  mark  of  this. 
Religion  deals  with  things  as  they  are,  not  with  things  as 
our  desires  or  fancies  paint  them.  There  is  no  use  in  try- 
ing to  adapt  Christian  faith  to  light-minded  people,  or  to 
translate  the  thunders  of  Sinai  or  the  voices  from  the 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  FEAft  229 

Cross  into  the  language  of  little  souls.  A  religion  that 
did  not  retain  some  elements  of  fear  would  ipso  facto  dis- 
prove itself. 

2.  Fear  has  a  rich  inheritance  for  the  future,  and  when 
a  people  has  ceased  to  fear  it  has  little  to  hand  on.  Its 
children  are  born  bankrupt  of  much  that  has  made  life 
most  worth  living  to  the  past.  Without  the  depths  of 
repentance  or  the  heights  of  reverence,  such  an  age  may 
call  itself  Augustan,  but  it  is  hastening  towards  the 
revolution.  But  the  elements  of  fear  that  enter  into  any 
generation's  thoughts  of  God  appear  in  the  next  genera- 
tion for  the  most  part  in  new  forms.  By  the  same  strange 
alchemy  of  God,  which  changes  the  decay  and  death  of 
this  year  into  the  fruitful  harvests  of  next,  the  fears  of 
the  past  are  changed  into  the  knowledge  and  character  of 
the  future. 

Knowledge  is  part  of  the  heritage  of  fear.  The  work 
of  science  is  obviously  this  transmutation.  The  fears  of 
to-day  spur  men  on  to  acquire  the  knowledge  of  to-mor- 
row, and  most  knowledge  is  thus  literally  the  heritage  of 
fear.  But  still  more  profoundly  is  this  true  of  that  knowl- 
edge of  God  which  is  the  essential  element  in  religion. 
The  good-humoured  little  gods  of  modern  Bohemia  and 
modern  Philistia  are  very  pretty,  but  they  are  not  real. 
If  men  know  the  true  God  at  all  to-day,  that  knowledge 
was  found  for  them  by  former  men  who  feared.  If  we 
know  Him  more  humanly  than  the  fathers,  at  least  let 
us  not  forget  that  all  that  is  greatest  in  our  thoughts  of 
Him  came  to  us  from  them. 

Character,  too,  is  part  of  our  heritage  of  fear.  Charac- 
ter is  a  very  complex  thing.  It  cannot  be  created  within 
one  or  even  many  generations.  It  is  built  up  and  enriched 
by  countless  elements  which  have  entered  into  it  in  the 
past,  which  have  been  absorbed,  and  disappeared  only  to 
reappear  in  the  richer  and  finer  quality  of  the  character 


230  THINGS  ETERNAL 

of  future  ideals.  In  a  light  age  there  is  much  talk  about 
love  and  joy,  but  often  these  are  slight,  facile,  and  ineffec- 
tive. The  only  joy  and  love  that  are  trustworthy  are 
those  which  spring  from  roots  struck  deep  into  the  soil 
of  the  pasts,  where  they  fed  on  sterner  virtues.  The  ele- 
ment of  fear  out  of  which  it  grew  gives  to  joy  the  qualities 
of  repose,  permanence,  and  gentleness:  to  love  it  gives  a 
rich  and  passionate  depth,  a  strength  and  patience  which 
were  impossible  without  it. 

3.  Deliverance  from  Fear. — Courage  itself,  and  an  un- 
shaken and  habitual  fearlessness,  are  part  of  the  heritage 
of  fear.  There  is  no  sure  or  worthy  deliverance  from  fear 
but  through  fear.  By  dealing  reverently  with  the  thought 
and  conscience  of  the  past,  by  full  realization  of  the  aw- 
fulness  both  of  human  nature  and  of  God,  fear  may  pass 
into  joy  and  love  that  retain  the  notes  of  reverence  and 
of  steadfastness  in  our  religion.  It  has  been  said  that 
the  land  is  blessed  which  has  no  history.  In  truth 
that  land  is  more  blessed  that  has  a  history,  graved  in  the 
iron  rock.  But  once  fear  has  been  transformed  into  rever- 
ent joy  and  steadfast  love,  we  find  ourselves  delivered 
from  all  that  manifold  bondage  and  torment  which  beset 
the  life  that  has  dealt  less  thoroughly  with  the  ancient 
terrors.  In  a  word,  the  choice  is  offered  us  between  one 
great  fear  and  a  thousand  little  ones;  between  the  fear 
of  God,  and  countless  fears  of  evil,  of  to-morrow,  of  yes- 
terday, of  our  fellow-men,  and  of  the  mysterious  region 
within  the  shadow  of  death. 

Thus  by  fear  we  may  escape  from  fear.  "  Live  out 
the  best  that 's  in  these  and  thou  art  done  with  fears  ' ' —  it 
is  a  great  and  true  saying.  But  that  "best  that's  in  thee" 
includes  God  in  thee.  Face  Him  and  settle  the  issues  of 
life  with  Him —  then  there  is  nothing  left  to  fear.  The 
great  art  of  religion  is  that  of  centring  all  our  fear  in 
God.     Fear  is  then  lost  in  reverent  love  and  trust,  and 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  FEAR  231 

the  world  around  is  swept  clear  of  terrors.  For  such  a 
man  dreads  nothing  but  the  loss  of  the  God  he  loves;  he 
has  now  no  longer  any  hesitation  about  "  making  the 
devil  his  enemy/'  nor  bidding  defiance  to  the  trooping 
shadows  of  conscience  and  of  mortality.  For  his  faith  no 
longer  floats  loosely  on  the  surface  of  his  dreams  and  his 
desires,  but  has  reached  bottom,  and  rests  on  the  nether 
rock.  Such  is  the  final  heritage  of  them  that  fear  God's 
name. 


THE  CLAIM  OF  GOD 

(All  Souls) 

"All  souls  are  mine." — Ezekiel  xviii.  4. 

The  Bible  is  full  of  the  demand  for  service  to  God,  the 
demand  for  service  resting  on  the  fact  of  ownership.  Two 
out  of  many  such  passages  may  be  taken  along  with  the 
text.  In  Isaiah  xliii.  1,  we  have  the  words,  "  Fear  not,  for 
I  have  redeemed  thee,  I  have  called  thee  by  thy  name ; 
thou  art  mine,"  spoken  by  "  the  Lord  that  created  thee 
.  .  .  Him  that  formed  thee."  The  grand  idea  of  the 
servant  of  Jehovah,  traced  back  through  a  wonderful  his- 
tory of  redemption,  ends  thus  in  the  thought  of  creation; 
and  the  naming  of  Jacob  asserts  that  individual  and  par- 
ticular client-relation  which  is  so  characteristic  of  Hebrew 
religion  and  so  rich  in  meaning  and  suggestion.  The 
other  passage  occurs  in  Acts  xxvn.  23,  when  Paul,  during 
the  shipwreck,  speaks  of  "God,  whose  I  am,  and  whom  I 
serve."  At  such  a  time  as  that,  the  question,  Whose  am 
I?  is  of  first  importance.  In  fair  weather  we  are  tempted 
to  claim  our  souls  and  bodies  for  our  own;  but  when  the 
timbers  are  starting,  and  the  ship  is  driven  before  the 
tempest,  we  are  fain  to  renounce  the  ownership  of  prop- 
erty we  are  so  helpless  to  defend.  If  at  such  a  time  a 
man  knows  that  he  belongs  to  God,  then  the  winds  and 
waves  matter  little,  and  the  impressionable  sailor-men  feel 
the  power  and  shelter  of  one  who  knows  whose  he  is. 
Nowadays,  when  every  one  is  proclaiming  his  "inalien- 

(232) 


THE  CLAIM  OF  GOD  233 

able  rights,"  and  with  loud  voice  asserting  his  claim  on 
life,  the  other  question,  as  to  who  has  a  claim  to  us,  is 
often  forgotten.  Yet  it  is  the  more  important,  and  even 
the  more  practical  question  of  the  two.  Disciples  of  cul- 
ture speak  much  of  '  'fulfilling  oneself"  and  "obeying  one's 
nature,"  but  they  do  not  always  realize  that  the  very 
essense  of  such  fulfilment  and  obedience  is  to  find  one's 
master.  Genius  has  been  often  defined,  but  no  definition 
is  satisfactory  that  does  not  include  a  sense  of  mysterious 
ownership.  The  supreme  touches  of  the  artist,  which 
change  his  picture  suddenly  from  death  to  life,  are  in  a 
real  sense  the  coming  of  the  Holy  Ghost  upon  him.  He 
is  no  longer  his  own  man ;  he  is  for  the  moment  ' '  carried, ' ' 
possessed.  So  it  is  in  music,  in  craftsmanship,  in  speech. 
It  is  not  in  any  pride  or  self-sufficiency  that  a  man  can  ever 
achieve  the  highest  greatness.  It  is  when  "  by  stooping 
we  climb  to  His  feet."  The  man  may  not  know  what  has 
happened  when  his  work  leaps  thus  towards  the  ideal  of 
beauty  or  truth,  or  perfection.  Really  it  is  the  claim  of 
God,  who  stoops  over  his  workman  and  whispers  to  his 
soul,  "Thou  art  mine." 

There  are,  however,  rival  claimants  for  the  souls  of  men, 
and  each  of  these  may,  by  the  soul's  consent,  put  for- 
ward a  claim  that  life  will  honour.  Not  Judas  only,  but 
every  man  born,  goes  at  last  to  his  own  place. 

1.  The  world.— Lite  begins  in  an  unworldly  simplicity 
which  accepts  the  situation  without  thought.  But  as  child- 
hood passes  into  youth,  the  world  becomes  more  and  more 
a  shining  and  alluring  fascination.  The  joy  of  life,  the 
"green  fire"  of  nature,  press  their  demands.  The  intoxi- 
cation of  the  "crowded  hour  of  glorious  life"  proclaims 
and  presses  the  imperative  of  earth.  At  first  earth  woos 
the  soul  surreptitiously,  fawning,  whispering  "  Be  thou 
mine."  With  hardly  a  flicker  of  definite  consciousness  or 
will,  the  soul  answers  "Yes,  dear  earth,  I  am  thine. "    Until 


234:  THINGS  ETERNAL 

the  man  appears  with  his  shameless  creed  cf  following  his 
nature,  subject  to  no  other  will. 

Such  a  man  has  mortgaged  his  destiny.  To  be  claimed 
by  the  world  and  to  lose  the  faculty  of  escape  from  it 
is  the  ghastliest  of  all  dooms.  For  the  sweet  voice  that  says 
"Thou  art  mine"  changes  its  tone.  It  loses  its  softness 
and  becomes  terrifying,  until  at  length  its  hoarse  reitera- 
tion sounds  the  knell  of  the  dying  aspirations  of  the  spirit. 
In  his  Easter  Day,  Robert  Browning  has  shown  that  ap- 
palling transition  from  delight  through  satiety  to  despair. 
Nothing  could  be  more  dreadful  than  the  sickening  re- 
turn of  the  days,  when  the  soul  that  has  lost  taste  for  all 
but  earthly  things,  at  last  grows  sick  of  them;  when  the 
swine  before  which  we  have  thrown  our  pearls,  turn  again 
and  rend  us. 

2.  Sin. — There  are  in  some  lands,  beautiful  green  spots 
that  promise  refreshment  to  the  weary  traveller,  but  he 
lingers  on  them  to  his  death,  for  their  beauty  is  poisoned. 
So  he  who  grants  the  claim  of  the  world  finds  that  it 
leads  directly  to  a  further  claim  and  a  lower.  You  never 
meant  to  pledge  yourself  to  more  than  pleasure,  but  you 
find  yourself  before  you  are  aware  committed  to  sin.  Like 
the  man  in  Victor  Hugo's  story,  it  was  the  cave  you 
wanted,  but  the  devil-fish  wanted  you.  Sin,  once  com- 
mitted, claims  a  man.  He  has  sold  himself,  and  he  be- 
longs to  sin.  This  is  no  imaginary  horror,  it  is  happen- 
ing around  us  every  day.  There  are  men  everywhere  who 
are  surfeited  with  sin  and  yet  committing  it.  They  chose 
it  lightly,  and  now  they  are  filled  with  their  own  way. 
The  sin  they  loved  once  they  have  long  hated,  but  they 
do  it  still. 

3.  Death. — The  surefooted  shadow  of  death  comes  on 
at  a  measured  interval  after  sin,  and  when  sin  has  done 
with  a  man  it  leaves  him  to  this  next  claimant.  It  is  no 
theological  fiction,  but  a  patent  fact  of  life,  that  "the  soul 


THE  CLAIM  OF  GOD  235 

that  sinneth  it  shall  die."  Sin  is  the  sting  of  death,  the 
paralysing  sting,  that  leaves  a  man's  heart  and  conscience 
and  will  flaccid,  helpless,  with  no  power  to  stand  nor  to 
resist.  Sorrow,  disappointment,  and  death  come  to  all, 
but  only  to  the  unforgiven  soul  do  they  come  with  a 
claim.  Debemur  morti — we  are  due  to  death.  There  is 
no  use  of  rebelling  when  with  heads  down  they  are 
marched  off  to  that  which  claims  them — their  lord  the 
worm. 

That  is  life,  not  as  religion  makes  it,  but  as  it  finds  it. 
What  then  can  religion  do  for  so  dire  a  situation?  It 
sounds  out  a  new  claim,  challenging  all  the  rest.  "To  be 
the  property  of  God  is  the  essence  of  religion."  So  the 
form  of  this  divine  claimant  strides  in  upon  our  ruined 
human  life  with  His  great  voice,  "All  souls  are  Mine." 
The  world  hears  it,  that  pleasure-house  that  has  become  a 
prison ;  and  He  breaks  its  gates  of  brass,  and  cuts  its  bars 
of  iron  in  sunder.  And  the  world,  where  once  stood 
the  prison-house,  becomes  the  garden  of  the  Lord.  Sin 
and  Death  hear  the  footfall  and  the  voice.  They  drop  their 
victim  and  flee  away,  and  remorse  and  temptation  follow 
in  their  train.  "The  wages  of  sin  is  death,  but  the  gift 
of  God  is  eternal  life. ' ' 

You  who  have  sold  your  souls  for  naught  until  now  the 
habits  of  your  sins  have  bound  you ;  you  who  are  surfeited 
with  earth,  and  to  whom  the  thought  of  things  above  this 
world  has  become  a  fainter  and  fainter  dream ;  you,  whose 
bodies  and  souls  have  felt  the  growing  tyranny  of  sin,  and 
whose  eyes  have  caught  sight  of  Death,  waiting  visibly 
for  your  coming — listen  to  that  great  voice,  "All  souls 
are  Mine — your  soul  is  Mine."  The  key  of  your  soul  hangs 
at  God's  girdle.    You  belong  inalienably  to  Him.  , 

There  is  the  solution  of  the  whole  ghastly  mystery  of 
life.  However  terribly  those  former  claimants  may  have 
fastened  their  hold  upon  you,  they  have  no  right  to  you, 


236  THINGS  ETERNAL 

for  you  are  God's.  From  the  first,  deep  in  the  hearts  of 
them,  men  have  known  that  this  was  so.  Even  the  classic 
heroes  proclaimed  themselves  under  the  protection  of  a 
god.  The  faith  of  Israel  set  men  free  by  publishing  the 
claim  of  Jehovah.  But  not  till  Christ  had  come  did  that 
divine  claim  reach  its  full  power  and  winsomeness.  There 
was  that  about  Him  which  seemed  always  to  claim  men 
for  His  own.  It  is  only  those  who  do  not  know  Him  that 
can  criticize  Him.  When  you  know  Him  there  is  nothing 
for  it  but  to  be  His.  By  His  life  and  by  His  death,  by 
His  speech  and  by  His  deeds,  by  His  infinite  compassion 
and  His  mighty  power  to  save,  Christ  claims  us  for  His 
own. 

To  obey  that  claim  is  to  reach  a  new  thought  of  life's 
responsibilities  that  will  stand  a  man  in  good  stead  through 
evil  days.  "  The  lighthouse  keeper  on  his  rock  sits  in  his 
solitude  and  watches  his  little  flame.  Why  does  he  not 
let  it  die  away  in  the  night  as  other  lights  in  the  distance 
die?  Because  it  is  not  his  light.  He  is  its  keeper,  not  its 
owner.  The  great  power  that  watches  that  stormy  coast 
has  set  him  there,  and  he  must  be  true. ' '  So  does  the  man 
who  knows  Christ's  claim  upon  him  stand  on  the  high 
vantage-ground  of  life.  The  tides  of  the  world  surge 
around  him,  the  blasts  of  sin  and  the  cold  rain  of  death 
beat  upon  his  tower.  They  would  claim  him  for  their 
own  and  quench  his  light  of  life.  But  the  light  shines  on, 
for  there  is  another  who  has  said  to  his  soul,  "Thou  are 
Mine." 


THE   RELIGION   OF   HUMANITY 

"Jesus  went  forth,  and  saw  a  great  multitude,  and  was  moved 
with  compassion  toward  them." — St.  Matthew  xiv.  14. 

Nothing  is  of  more  importance  than  the  love  of  humanity 
as  a  whole.     Many  thinkers  of  the  last  and  the  present 
centuries  make  this  the  central  demand,  and  indeed  the 
one  essential  principle,  alike  of  morals  and  religion.     In- 
deed this  love  of  collective  humanity  has,  by  a  strange 
irony  of  fate,  become  the  chief  rival  of  Christianity.     The 
old  individualism  of  our  love  one  to  another,  and  in  its 
idealized  form  of  our  love  to  God  or  Christ,  has  been  su- 
perseded by  this  wider  and  more  general   command   of 
affection,  "  Write  me  as  one  who  loved  his  fellow-men." 
No  one  denies  the  generosity  and  the  beauty  of  such 
an  ideal,  nor  do  we  in  any  degree  underrate  the  value 
of  it.    Yet  our  heart  sings  as  we  draw  nearer,  for  we  find 
that  it  is  precisely  the  most  impossible  of  all  demands. 
The  plain  and  brutal  truth  is,  as  Mr.  Mallock  has  pointed 
out,  that  the  great  majority  of  our  fellow-men  are  not  in 
the  least  degree  interesting  to  any  of  us.     We  do  not 
know  them,  nor  has  our  imagination  any  hold  upon  them 
whatever.     An   accident   involving   death    and   suffering 
varies  in  its  interest  for  us  in  inverse  ratio  to  the  dis- 
tance of  its  scene  from  our  familiar  region.     The  same 
thing  is  true  of  distance  in  time.     We  are,  told  to  live  for 
posterity,  and  in  a  general  way  we  consent  to  legislate  in 
view  of  far-reaching  effects,  and  cherish  public  sentiments 
against  the  obvious  propagation  of  disease  and  so  forth. 

(237) 


238  THINGS  ETERNAL 

But  how  rare  is  any  actual  self-denial  in  view  of  the 
needs  of  far-distant  generations.  How  few  of  us  think 
of  our  successors  beyond,  say,  the  third  generation,  with 
imagination  of  the  fact  that  they  will  have  to  face  the 
same  temptations,  dangers,  and  necessities  which  we  are 
facing,  and  that  the  results  of  our  conduct  will  be  of  im- 
mense moment  to  their  lives.  In  this  diminishing  intensity 
of  compassion,  we  see  love  running  to  waste  in  collective 
humanity  (and  the  leakage  is  not  stopped  by  spelling 
Humanity  with  a  capital  letter),  filtering  away  among 
the  multitude  until  it  disappears.  Evidently  what  is 
wanted  is  a  love  of  men  that  shall  be  backed  by  powers  of 
imagination  and  sympathy  which  we  must  simply  ack- 
nowledge that  we  do  not  possess. 

But  the  Christ  of  Christian  faith  did  possess  such  pow- 
ers, and  He  has  laid  the  conscience  of  them  on  the  world. 
He  had  compassion  on  the  multitude.  Every  life  inter- 
ested Him,  distant  as  well  as  near.  It  is  a  curious  ques- 
tion how  far  this  comprehending  imaginative  sympathy 
extended,  what  limits  His  human  nature  must  have  set 
to  its  scope.  Yet  in  any  case  it  is  is  evident  that  here  we 
have  an  altogether  unheard-of  stretch  of  sympathetic  in- 
sight. It  is  indeed  this  fact  that  lies  in  the  depths  of  any 
intelligent  doctrine  of  substitution — an  illimitable  power 
of  putting  himself  in  the  place  of  others  so  as  to  be  in 
any  true  sense  "  the  propitiation  for  our  sins;  and  not 
for  ours  only,  but  also  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world." 

This  compassion  still  lives  on,  and  is  as  powerful  to-day 
as  at  the  first.  Cicero  confesses  that,  with  the  writings 
Plato  before  him,  he  can  feel  the  thrill  of  the  hope  of 
immortality;  but  when  the  book  is  closed,  the  ideals  fade 
into  thin  ghosts  again.  But  it  is  not  so  with  Jesus.  The 
most  potent  of  all  the  forces  of  salvation  at  the  present 
hour  is  the  conviction  held  by  great  multitudes  of  men 
that  Jesus  still  understands  their  perplexities,  and  bears 


THE  RELIGION  OF  HUMANITY  239 

upon  His  heart  their  burdens  of  sorrow  and  of  sin.  The 
only  tolerable  justification  for  the  continued  exist- 
ence of  the  Christian  Church  is  the  persuasion 
that  Jesus  is  now  incarnate  in  it  for  the  same 
ends  of  compassion  and  of  healing.  The  function  of  the 
Church  is  compassion  for  the  multitude — to  seek  out  and 
to  understand  and  to  save  the  individual.  To  distinguish 
him  from  the  mass,  and  look  upon  his  sorrow  and  his  sin ; 
to  discover  and  to  pity  the  average  man,  to  love  him,  and 
to  find  out  that  bright  point  in  him  which  is  not  common- 
place, and  to  draw  out  the  best  that  is  in  him.  No  service 
to  society  could  be  more  economically  valuable  than  that, 
and  the  Church  may  justly  claim  to  have  performed  that 
service  more  than  any  other  agency.  It  was  Christ  who 
taught  the  world  the  lovableness  of  the  average  man,  and 
it  is  Christ  who  is  slowly  leavening  society  with  the  same 
conviction.  No  further  question  is  needed  to  awaken 
compassion  for  the  lowest  of  men  than  this,  that  he  is  "  my 
churl  for  whom  Christ  died." 

Surely  here  we  have  something  absolutely  divine.  This 
universal  care  and  tenderness  inevitably  send  us  back  upon 
that  God  who  created  natural  affection.  Those  eyes  that 
thus  search  the  world,  that  search  history,  and  discover 
the  souls  of  countless  insignificant  individuals,  and  bring 
them  out  into  the  light  of  love — surely  such  scrutiny  is 
beyond  the  range  of  human  vision.  The  longer  we  con- 
sider it,  the  more  we  think  of  the  all-seeing  eye  of  God. 
At  first  sight  it  may  seem  a  far-fetched  apologetic,  but 
it  will  bear  reflection.  There  is  no  question  that  an  increas- 
ing compassion  for  the  multitude,  and  an  increasing  con- 
science of  their  well-being  has  come  upon  man  through 
Jesus  Christ,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  anything 
more  expressly  revealing  the  image  of  the  Father.  If 
there  were  to  be  a  revelation  at  all,  surely  it  must  be 
something  of  this  sort,  so  pre-eminently  Godlike  is  Christ's 
compassion  for  the  multitude. 


240  THINGS  ETERNAL 

Thus  we  find  that  the  Gospel  of  Humanity  and  the 
Christian  faith,  so  far  from  being  rivals,  are  actually 
one  and  the  same.  Until  Christ  came,  the  love  of  humanity 
was  no  more  than  a  theoretical  and  high-sounding  subject 
for  dialectic  or  for  dream.  It  was  He  who  changed  it 
into  an  actual  force  in  the  world,  and  set  its  strong  leaven 
working  in  the  race.  It  had  to  work  against  innumer- 
able prejudices  and  hatreds  between  individuals,  classes, 
and  nations.  Still  more  serious  was  its  opposition  from 
the  dead  mass  of  selfish  indifference  which  might  well  have 
seemed  unconquerable.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  has  not 
yet  conquered  more  than  small  and  isolated  parts  of  the 
field.  But  it  is  at  work.  Man  is  already  ashamed  of  his 
class  hatreds  and  apologetic  about  his  indifference,  and 
everything  which  calls  itself  a  Gospel  of  Humanity  is  at 
least  sure  of  a  sympathetic  hearing. 

But  when  any  such  Gospel  disowns  its  origin,  and  poses 
as  a  new  thing  better  than  Christianity  and  about  to 
supersede  it,  that  Gospel  is  cutting  itself  off  from  its  own 
sources  of  supply.  Without  the  inspiration  of  Christ,  it 
will  soon  cease  to  be  of  anything  but  an  academic  interest. 
For  the  simple  fact  is  that  we  need  Christ  in  order  to 
love  collective  humanity  and  to  discover  the  lovableness  of 
its  innumerable  individuals.  "  It  is  because  Christ  lived 
that  I  believe  in  humanity,' '  as  Mrs.  Lynn  Linton  told  an 
earlier  generation  of  humanitarians.  And  indeed  Christ 
is  far  easier  to  believe  in.  It  requires  the  mysterious 
power  of  His  personality,  the  force  of  His  example,  and 
the  compulsion  of  His  Spirit  to  enable  men  to  have  com- 
passion on  the  multitude  in  any  adequate  or  effective  sense. 
We  can  love  the  world  so  as  to  save  it,  only  so  long  as  we 
are  convinced  by  Jesus  Christ  that  God  so  loved  the 
world. 


THE   FURTHER   SIDE   OF   VICTORY 

"More  than  conquerors." — Romans  viii.  37. 

No  metaphor  is  more  popular  than  that  which  represents 
life  as  a  battle,  nor  is  any  exhortation  more  certain  to  stir 
our  blood  than  the  call  to  victory.  Yet  conquest  is  not 
the  Christian  ideal.  It  i§  a  richer  promise  which  Christ 
offers  :-^ 

And  there  the  sunset  skies  unseal'd, 

Like  lands  he  never  knew, 
Beyond  to-morrow's  battlefield, 

Lay  open  out  to  view 
To  ride  into. 

At  first  this  seems  overdrawn,  but  the  more  we  think 
of  it  the  more  convincing  it  is.  Even  for  its  own  sake, 
Christianity  would  need  to  have  a  higher  promise  than 
mere  conquest.  In  many  fields,  victory  is  to  be  had  other- 
wise. Every  man  who  does  his  work  is  a  conqueror,  and 
the  world  is  full  of  such  men.  For  our  sakes  also,  mere 
conquest  is  not  enough.  Ascetic  Christianity  may  give  a 
man  the  cheerless  mastery  over  himself,  which  is  yet  very 
far  from  the  gaining  of  the  ideal  life.  And  for  the  sake 
of  others  we  must  be  more  than  conquerors.  All  con- 
querors, in  fact,  are  bound  to  be  more  than  conquerors. 
Those  who  do  not  accept  the  stern  condition  will  soon 
lose  even  that  which  they  have  gained.     After  gonquest 

r<24iy 


242  THINGS  ETERNAD 

come  higher  responsibilities,  for  in  the  battle  with  evil 
either  within  our  souls  or  around  us,  we  must  redeem  that 
which  we  have  overcome.  It  is  not  enough  to  make  a 
desolation  and  call  it  peace.  Life  must  cease  to  be  our 
enemy  and  become  our  friend.  So  the  true  Christian  con- 
queror is  not  merely  a  man  with  a  brilliant  deed  behind 
him :  he  is  one  who  has  entered  into  a  new  and  wonderful 
world,  full  of  the  rich  fruits  of  victory. 

Beyond  conquest,  the  first  fruit  of  it  is  peace.  Thero 
is  a  noisy  victory  that  is  as  restless  almost  as  the  battle 
was.  But  this  conquest  is  a  thing  which  ought  to  quiet  the 
life,  giving  it  a  silent  grandeur  of  repose.  The  rapture 
of  release  is  natural  at  first,  but  it  should  soon  pass  intc 
a  settled  confidence  in  which  faith  and  character  will  grow 
and  ripen. 

\  Gladness  also  is  offered  to  the  Christian  victor.  Not} 
only  shall  he  be  able  to  keep  the  enemies  of  the  soul  at 
bay,  or  with  strong  hand  to  suppress  them.  Freshness  and 
vitality  of  spirit  are  with  him  also,  both  to  enjoy  his  own 
life  and  to  gladden  others.  The  man  who  wrote  this 
text  was  one  who  would  undertake  to  rejoice  in  anything 
whatsoever.  He  rejoiced  in  hope  and  he  rejoiced  in  tribu- 
lation. He  was,  in  the  quaint,  exhilarating  phrase  of  an 
old  commentator,  "  well,  and  merry,  and  going  to  heaven/ ' 
We  owe  it  to  God,  to  ourselves,  and  to  those  around  us 
that  we  shall  not  only  be  strong  but  rejoicing,  men  who 
"  had  faced  life  and  were  glad." 

Love  is  a  still  richer  spoil  of  victory.  Conquest  is  apt 
to  be  loveless  enough.  Fighting  tends  to  harden,  and  many 
a  victor  over  life  can  only  be  said  to  tolerate  the  life  he  has 
mastered.  He  is  master  of  himself,  but  the  old  illusions 
are  gone.  There  is  no  heat  of  admiration,  nor  any  kindli- 
ness of  judgment,  but  only  a  brave,  austere,  and  cheer- 
less spirit,  withdrawn  from  his  fellows  and  reverencing 
rather  than  loving  God.    But  this  is  not  the  typical  vie- 


THE  FURTHER  SIDE  OF  VICTORY         243 

tory  of  faith.  If  the  Christian  has  conquered,  he  has  also 
loved.  He  has  seen  a  love  that  overcame  all  things  and 
subdued  the  world,  and  his  own  heart  beats  faster  as  he 
remembers  that  he  too  is  "  a  man  greatly  beloved."  So 
he  has  conquered  in  a  heat  of  generous  affection,  and  the 
wonder  of  that  love  remains,  glorifying  the  life  beyond 
the  battle-field. 

Such  are  the  things  that  lie  beyond  mere  conquest,  and 
the  secret  of  them  all  is  Christ.  Christianity  has  been  well 
described  as  "  a  magnificent  realization."  There  is  a 
protagonist  who  fights  in  all  our  warfare,  and  our  con- 
quests are  part  of  the  great  campaign.  Every  Christian 
knows  the  meaning  of  the  gods  on  their  white  horses  who 
fought  in  the  battle  of  Lake  Regillus.  Our  victory  is  not  a 
little  narrow  personal  affair;  it  is  part  of  the  mighty 
conquest  in  the  war  between  heaven  and  hell  on  the  battle- 
ground of  earth.  So  much  is  this  the  case  that  our 
victories  surprise  no  one  so  much  as  they  surprise  our- 
selves. "  Thanks  be  unto  God  who  giveth  us  the  victory," 
for  even  after  the  hardest  fighting  the  victory  is  a  gift. 
So,  through  all  the  dust  and  smoke  of  battle,  there  is 
visible  the  form  of  the  son  of  God.  Our  fellowship  with 
Him  is  so  great  and  wonderful  a  thing  that  beside  it  any 
victory  we  may  gain  sinks  into  insignificance.  We  are  far 
more  than  conquerors.  We  are  men  who  have  discovered 
the  peace  and  joy  and  love  of  Christ. 

There  is  always  danger  in  very  high  ideals,  and  there 
may  be  some  who  shrink  from  such  thoughts  as  these  with 
a  sense  of  wistfulness  and  discouragement.  When  we 
think  of  our  fighting — how  often  we  have  been  beaten, 
recreant,  ashamed — our  conscience  protests  that  God 
knows  it  is  difficult  enough  to  conquer,  and  the  weary 
spirit  complains,  "  Why  torment  us  with  talk  of  some- 
thing more  ?  a  plain,  honest  victory  would  be  good  enough 
for  us!" 


244  THINGS  ETERNAL 

Ah,  but  this  word  "  more  than  conquerors  "  does  not 
presuppose  a  completed  victory.  Many  a  man  feels 
acutely  how  far  he  is  from  anything  like  full  victory,  and 
yet  he  has  found  peace  and  gladness  and  love.  For  Christ 
is  generous  with  his  soldiers,  and  His  grace  is  wonderful 
beyond  all  reward.  Long  before  we  are  conquerors,  we 
are  more  than  conquerors;  and  that  generosity  of  Christ, 
if  a  man  will  but  understand  and  receive  it,  will  nerve 
his  heart  and  strengthen  his  fighting  arm  in  the  day  ©f 
battle. 


THE    TRANSFORMATION    OF 
LANGUAGE   INTO   LIFE 

(First  Sunday  in  Advent) 

"The  word  was  made  flesh." — St.  John  i.  14. 

The  one  supremely  significant  fact  in  the  universe  is,  to 
quote  Dr.  Peabody's  fine  paraphrase,  "  the  transformation 
of  language  into  life. ' '  We  see  this  transformation  in  three 
different  moments.  There  was  the  creation  at  the  begin- 
ning, when  great  vitalizing  words  of  God  took  form  in 
created  beings.  Again  there  is  the  same  transformation 
in  all  human  work  and  morality  to  the  end,  when  man  is 
hearing  words  of  God  within  him  and  is  transforming 
them  into  deeds  and  finished  products.  But  between  these 
two  there  stands  the  stupendous  fact  of  Christ,  interpreting 
the  first  and  inspiring  the  second. 

1.  Creation. — It  is  matter  of  general  consent  that  the 
universe  as  we  know  it  had  a  beginning.  As  thought 
travels  backward  into  the  great  silence  before  that  begin- 
ning, it  must  needs  discover  a  moment  when  the  eternal 
thought  found  expression,  and  the  universe  began.  The 
word  became  flesh.  God  spoke,  and  the  thing  spoken 
stood  out  as  a  created  fact.  "  The  universe  is  God's 
language. "  The  unspoken  word  is  all  that  might  be;  the 
spoken  word  is  all  that  is.  This  is  the  meaning  of  those 
wonderful  stories  of  Genesis,  in  which  we  see  all  things 
coming  forth  in  their  mighty  evolution  in  answer  to  the 

words  of  God. 

(245) 


246  THINGS  ETERNAL 

That  is  the  Christian  view  of  nature  and  the  universe. 
It  is  not  an  eternally  grinding  machine,  nor  is  it  a  dream- 
picture  woven  of  mist.  It  is  a  real  universe,  in  which 
God's  language  is  transformed  into  life.  The  great  words 
were  spoken,  and  there  are  the  mountains  and  the  fields 
and  the  seas,  and  the  ships  upon  the  seas  and  the  cities 
of  men.  It  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world  whether 
as  we  stand  in  the  midst  of  all  these  things  we  hear  only 
a  jangle  of  meaningless  sounds,  or  whether  we  hear  the 
word  of  the  Lord.  Listen  to  that  word  in  the  summer 
fields  and  sunshine,  in  the  winter  storms  and  the  voice  of 
the  tossing  seas.  Listen,  too,  in  the  crowded  streets, 
the  throb  of  machinery  and  traffic,  the  bustle  and 
the  gentle  speech  of  homes.  In  new  thought  and  adven- 
turous policy,  in  great  loyalties  to  ancient  institutions; 
in  the  voices  of  teachers  in  schools,  of  preachers  in 
pulpits,  of  business  men  in  offices,  of  shopkeepers  in  shops ; 
in  the  heart-beatings  of  the  lonely  and  the  sobs  of  the  peni- 
tent— everywhere  creation  is  the  word  become  flesh. 

2.  Jesus  Christ. — The  word  had  been  spoken  in  an 
unknown  tongue.  We  heard  it,  and  saw  its  incarnate 
forms,  but  we  did  not  understand.  Science  was  patiently 
deciphering  it,  retranslating  it  back  from  life  to  language ; 
endeavouring  from  the  manifest  facts  of  the  universe  to 
spell  out  the  meaning  of  the  Word  of  God.  But  science 
finds  it  difficult,  and  conscience  and  love  find  it  far  more 
difficult  to  understand.  The  divine  Word  has  seemed  to 
change  and  suffer  in  the  process  of  becoming  flesh.  Its 
meaning  is  obscure,  and  it  seems  to  have  been  mingled 
with  much  other  speech  that  is  not  divine. 

Many  had  tried  to  interpret  it  into  human  speech. 
Psalmists,  prophets,  philosophers  had  tried;  but  their 
words  died  away,  leaving  fainter  and  fainter  echoes  in 
man's  conscience.  They  had  written  their  interpretation, 
but  God's  word  can  never  find  full  expression  in  a  book. 


TRANSFORMATION  OF  LANGUAGE  INTO  LIFE  247 

Language  must  be  transformed  into  life — and  not,  this 
time,  the  general  life  of  the  universe,  but  our  human 
life — that  we  might  understand.  So  "  the  word  became 
flesh."  The  meaning  of  life,  the  purpose  of  God  in  crea- 
tion, became  intelligible  in  Jesus  Christ.  His  whole  speech 
and  conduct  and  being  interpreted  the  world.  When  men 
saw  Him  they  said,  Life  ought  to  be  like  that :  God  is  like 
that. 

Take  three  of  the  words  of  God,  and  let  us  see  their 
transformation  into  life  in  Christ: — 

(1)  Holiness. — The  word  was  familiar,  for  there  was 
abundance  of  ethical  speculation  and  of  conscience  too. 
But  holiness  was  dead  and  buried  in  formal  rules  of  con- 
duct, paralysed  by  man's  universal  failure,  and  hopelessly 
unattainable.  But  here  was  holiness  splendidly  alive, 
spontaneous,  free,  and  natural.  Here  it  was  not  merely 
attainable  but  actually  attained.  Jesus  Christ  —  that  was 
what  God  had  meant  by  conscience,  what  conscience  had 
tried  to  say;  that  was  what  ethical  science  had  seen  afar 
off,  but  never  reached. 

(2)  Love — the  most  fascinating  and  yet  the  most  elusive 
word  of  God.  Men  heard  it  in  their  own  hearts  and 
homes,  but  it  was  uncertain  or  sinister,  and  always  pre- 
carious, being  threatened  both  by  life  and  death.  That  was 
human  love,  and  the  divine  love  was  but  a  remote  and 
dim  whisper  of  possible  goodwill,  if  things  turned  out  to 
be  as  one  sometimes  almost  dared  to  hope.  But  here 
was  love  at  once  stronger  than  death  and  simple  as  the 
laughter  of  a  child.  Men  saw  its  patience,  its  responsive- 
ness, its  facility.  They  felt  its  tenderness,  its  understand- 
ing, its  healing  power.  Here  is  God's  heart,  seen  in  the 
heart  of  a  man.  Here  is  what  all  true  love  actually  means. 
The  word  Love  had  become  flesh. 

(3)  Death — that  last  sad  word.  Every  death  before  had 
been  recognized  as  a  Word  of  God,  but  how  unfriendly 


248  THINGS  ETERNAL 

and  how  harsh!  Since  Jesus  died,  men  have  know  what 
God  means  by  His  great  word  Death,  for  the  death  of 
Jesus  has  interpreted  the  whole  of  life.  In  the  light  of  its 
love  and  sacrifice  we  look  with  new  eyes  upon  sin,  de- 
spair, forgiveness,  restoration.  And  that  death  has  re- 
interpreted death  itself,  giving  to  it  surprisingly  rich 
and  blessed  meaning.  All  the  wonder  of  the  eternal  life — 
its  rest,  its  renewal,  its  reward,  its  higher  service — all 
these  were  included  in  the  meaning  of  the  word  death, 
when  in  Christ  language  was  translated  into  life.  Truly 
man  may  say  to  the  spectre,  at  the  grave  of  Jesus, 

Thou  hast  stolen  a  jewel,  Death, 
Shall  light  thy  dark  up  like  a  star. 

All  this,  and  far  more  than  this,  is  included  in  the 
meaning  of  "  the  word  became  flesh."  Flesh,  the  tempted 
and  tempting  thing,  weak  and  suffering,  subject  to  all 
contingencies  and  liable  to  all  risks — flesh  was  used  to 
express  adequately  and  for  ever  the  meaning  of  God's 
word   of   creation. 

3.  The  third  stage  of  this  incarnation  has  yet  to  be 
considered.  The  text  is  a  command  that  the  word  shall 
become  flesh  again  in  every  Christian  life.  The  transla- 
tion of  language  into  life  is  the  great  act  of  religion. 

We  are  familiar  with  the  idea  of  the  incarnation  being 
perpetuated  in  the  Bible,  the  Church,  and  the  Sacraments. 
But  besides  these,  each  life  around  us  is  a  Word  of  God, 
a  special  purpose  and  design  realized  in  flesh  in  its  degree. 
This  thought  surely  gives  new  meaning  to  our  intercourse 
with  those  who  do  business  with  us  or  live  beside  us. 
"  There  Ts  but  one  temple  in  the  world,"  says  Novalis, 
"  and  that  temple  is  the  Body  of  Man.  .  .  .  We  touch 
heaven  when  we  lay  our  hands  on  a  human  body."  An- 
other has  said:  "  The  body  of  a  child  is  as  the  body  of 
the  Lord;  I  am  not  worthy  of  either."     How  reverently, 


TRANSFORMATION  OF  LANGUAGE  INTO  LIFE  249 

gently,  purely  should  we  treat  one  another  if  this  indeed 
be  so. 

But  most  especially  in  ourselves  must  language  be  trans- 
formed into  life.  We  all  hear  many  words  of  God.  The 
worship  of  the  Church,  its  songs  and  prayers,  its  readings 
and  thoughts,  and  the  inward  response  to  these  in  desire, 
aspiration,  and  resolve;  these  words  are  to  become  flesh 
in  us  when  we  return  from  our  worship  to  our  daily  life. 
And  also  there  are  other  words  which  our  spirits  hear 
from  day  to  day.  What  has  life  been  saying  to  you? 
What  has  your  experience  meant?  What  lessons  has  God 
been  trying  to  make  you  understand  ?  Some  of  it  we  can- 
not understand,  and  all  that  is  required  of  us  is  that  we 
shall  walk  among  these  unknown  voices  of  life,  erect  and 
brave  and  self-respecting  and  gentle.  '  But  there  is  much 
that  we  understand  quite  well.  It  is  the  Word  of  God, 
spoken  clearly  and  in  familiar  language  by  the  voice  of 
life. 

But  that  word  has  yet  to  become  flesh.  There  are  count- 
less words  of  God  in  the  knowledge  and  conviction  of  us 
all  which  are  as  yet  no  more  than  words.  These  are  waiting 
for  their  incarnation  in  our  character  and  influence,  in 
our  daily  work  and  service  of  man  and  God.  The  works 
of  our  hands  are  God's  word  fulfilled  in  us.  We  who  can 
work  are  born  that  certain  great  words  we  have  heard  in 
our  secret  souls  may  become  flesh  in  deeds.  Rise  then 
and  do  the  work  that  thy  hands  find  to  do.  In  this  living 
fashion  speak  out  what  is  in  thee.  So  shalt  thou  also  be 
a  Word  of  God  incarnate,  an  expression  of  His  mind  in 
living  HesK. 


,THE     REASONABLE    VIEW    OF     SIN 
AND    OF   FORGIVENESS 

(Second  Sunday  in  Advent) 

"Come  now,  and  let  us  reason  together,  saith  the  Lord;  though 
your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow; 
though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool." — 
Isaiah  i.  18. 

This  passage  brings  the  fa«ts  of  sin  and  its  removal  into 
the  light  of  reason.  It  is  a  point  of  view  more  familiar  to 
the  Greek  than  to  the  Hebrew  thought,  and  when  the 
Hebrew  prophet  describes  God  as  reasoning  with  men 
concerning  sin  we  may  expect  some  startling  truths. 

1.  Views  of  Sin.  (1)  Unreasonable  Views. — The  people 
had  thought  of  sin  as  a  light  matter  that  could  be  easily 
compounded  for  with  sacrifices  and  prayers — that  was 
their  irrationality.  It  is  repeated  by  clever  modern  people 
in  many  variants,  each  of  them  some  device  for  getting 
rid  of  the  old  spectres  of  conscience  which  once  terrified 
mankind.  They  have  discovered  that  vice  is  but  virtue 
run  to  seed,  part  of  the  evolution  of  character,  an  un- 
pleasant necessity  involved  in  human  nature.  Above  all, 
they  insist  that  the  whole  subject  is  in  bad  taste,  and  that 
the  proper  course  is  to  call  it  by  some  respectable  name 
and  say  no  more  about  it. 

That  view  would  be  reasonable  but  for  the  facts  of  the 
case.  But  what  means  this  indestructible  conscience,  this 
blood-red  spectre  that  cannot  be  laid?  That  is  fact,  and 
there  are  those  who  would  give  all  they  have  to  persuade 

(250) 


THE   KEASONABLE   VIEW  OF   SIN  251 

themselves  that  it  is  mere  imagination.  "We  are  told  to 
cultivate  the  power  of  living  in  the  present.  Laugh  and 
forget ;  and  ' '  let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead. ' '  Yes,  if 
the  sinful  past  were  dead!  but  it  is  alive,  and  it  will  not 
stay  underground. 

(2)  The  reasonable  view — "  Scarlet  and  crimson/'  That 
is  the  fact  of  sin — glaring,  blazing,  unconcealable.  Nay 
more,  these  are  the  colours  of  newly  shed  blood.  The  ref- 
erence is  to  verse  fifteen,  where  the  people  are  accused  of 
violence  and  murder.  Like  Lady  Macbeth  they  have  the 
stain  of  blood  on  their  hand,  and  the  '  damned  spot  '  will 
not  wash  out. 

Such  language  offends  our  ears.  What  have  we  to  do 
with  this?  we  are  no  murderers.  Are  we  not?  What  of 
the  slain  innocence,  the  aspirations  and  pure  hopes  and 
desires  that  once  were  ours  ?  What  of  the  strength  of  will, 
the  tenderness  of  conscience?  What  of  the  happiness  of 
friends,  their  trust  and  love?  Habits  of  evil  have  mur- 
dered our  freedom;  desires  of  evil  have  murdered  our 
moral  sanity  and  balance;  temptations  we  have  welcomed 
have  murdered  the  chances  of  to-morrow.  We  have 
stricken  our  own  souls,  wounding  them  to  death. 

But  why  go  thus  among  the  graves  and  let  loose  the 
spectres?  The  answer  is  plain;  we  are  not  doing  this,  it 
is  reason  that  is  doing  it.  "  Scarlet  and  crimson  "  are 
the  words  of  reason  to  eminently  respectable  people.  Much 
is  dead  in  you  and  me,  and  we  are  its  murderers.  That 
is  the  truth  about  sin ;  and,  that  being  so,  this  is  the  only 
reasonable  way  to  think  of  it.  Come,  then,  and  be  reason- 
able. All  the  perfumes  of  Arabia — all  the  sweet  theories 
of  a  tasteful  generation  that  strews  with  flowers  the 
grave  of  its  murdered  conscience — will  not  sweeten  this 
little  hand.     Our  sins  are  scarlet  and  crimson. 

2.  Views  of  the  issue.  (1)  Unreasonable. — If  this  be  the 
true  view  of  sin,  the  true  view  of  its  issue  would  appear 


252  THINGS  ETERNAL 

to  be  ghastly  enough.  It  must  be  suffering,  hopeless  and 
unrelieved.  The  context  shows  the  people  of  Israel  bat- 
tered by  punishment,  one  mass  of  disease  and  pain.  Yet 
all  that  had  failed.  "  Why  should  ye  be  stricken  any 
more?  Ye  will  revolt  more  and  more."  They  had  been 
punished  in  vain.  The  blows  had  been  unexplained,  for 
there  was  no  knowing  in  them.  As  blow  fell  after  blow, 
they  simply  took  what  was  given,  sullenness  sinking  to  a 
fatal  despair.  Nothing  could  be  more  unintelligent  or 
farther  from  reason  than  that.  It  was  not  the  despair  of 
the  conscience-stricken  but  the  despair  of  the  brutish.  Had 
conscience  stung  them  to  desperation,  had  they  been  aware 
of  the  colour  of  their  sins,  there  would  have  been  reason 
in  it:  but  this  was  wholty  irrational,  a  dumb  misery  that 
unintelligently  accepted  the  situation. 

The  counterpart  of  that  despair  is  to  be  found  in  our 
modern  pessimism.  It  professes  to  be  reasonable.  It 
founds  upon  philosophy  and  science.  It  knows  the  heredi- 
tary taint  in  the  blood,  the  imprisoning  environment  and 
the  tremendous  odds  against  virtue.  It  knows  also  that 
man's  sin  is  sure  to  find  him  out.  It  is  not  "  done  when 
'tis  done,"  but  it  is  only  beginning  then.  It  will  work 
out  its  course  through  vain  remorse  and  tightening  bonds 
of  habit,  and  deepening  gloom.  The  wages  of  sin  is  death 
— "  wages,"  nay  the  prize,  the  best  thing  sin  has  to  give. 
The  only  relief  that  pessimism  has  to  offer  is  that  this 
cannot  go  on  indefinitely.  The  increasing  horror  of  the 
rapids  is  so  great  that  the  swift  plunge  will  come  as  a  relief 
at  last.  This  is  widely  held  to  be  the  rational  view  of  the 
situation,  and  it  would  be  so,  but  for  one  fact  that  it  has 
left  out. 

2.  The  Reasonable  view  of  the  Issue — "  They  shall  be 
white  as  snow  .  .  .  they  shall  be  as  wool. ' '  The  words 
maintain  the  vivid  sense  of  colours,  and  contrast  with  the 
gleaming  blood,  the  snows  of  Hermon  and  the  fleece  of 


THE   REASONABLE   VIEW  OF   SIN  253 

young  lambs.  They  bring  us  back  to  the  austere  cleanness 
of  nature  which  formerly  had  seemed  to  judge  the  mur- 
derer by  her  cold  and  inexorable  contrast. 

This  is  very  startling;  if  we  could  believe  it  it  would 
be  very  comforting;  but  by  what  straining  of  language 
can  it  possibly  be  called  reasonable?  It  contradicts  the 
whole  record  of  history  and  goes  in  the  teeth  of  science. 
It  is  altogether  too  good  to  be  true  in  face  of  the  facts. 
Why  mock  us  further  by  speaking  of  reason  here? 

Because  of  the  omitted  fact.  Pain  is  not  match  for  sin, 
but  love  is  more  than  a  match  for  it.  The  omitted  fact  is 
the  fact  of  God.  This  is  a  record  of  His  reasoning  with 
man.  He  is  neither  compelling  man 's  will  nor  condemning 
his  transgression.  He  is  appealing  to  his  intelligence, 
urging  him  to  take  all  the  facts  into  consideration,  and 
the  fact  of  God  above  all  other  facts.  If  God  be  God,  there 
must  be  some  other  issue,  and  the  very  fact  that  He  is 
reasoning  with  men  is  full  of  the  suggestion  of  hope.  God 
has  some  way  of  dealing  with  sin  which  at  the  same  time 
paints  it  in  the  most  violent  colours  and  yet  entirely  re- 
moves it.  If  God  knows  all  and  yet  says  this,  then  hope 
and  not  despair  is  rational,  for  the  most  reasonable  thing 
in  all  the  world  must  surely  be  to  trust  the  character  of 
God. 

So  the  whole  argument  runs  back  at  last  to  the  love  of 
God.  He,  who  knows  the  depth  of  sin,  knows  also  the 
height  of  His  own  forgiveness  and  the  power  of  redemp- 
tion. All  the  reason  is  on  His  side,  for  if  God  indeed  is 
offering  to  take  sin  away,  the  only  reasonable  course  must 
be  to  accept  the  offer  and  let  Him  do  it.  This  reasoning  of 
love  is  indeed  the  greatest  mystery  in  the  universe.  It 
does  not  explain  the  tremendous  paradox  of  life,  but  it 
explains  all  we  need  to  know.  It  leaves  us  on  the  one 
hand  with  the  dread  reality  of  sin,  and  on  the  other  with 
the  equal  reality  of  pardon  and  deliverance.    It  faces  all 


254  THINGS  ETERNAL 

the  facts  of  perverse  will  and  the  destruction  that  it  leads 
to,  but  it  brings  in  the  greater  fact  of  the  irresistible  power 
of  love  that  masters  all. 

By  Jesus  Christ  this  tremendous  challenge  was  accepted, 
and  the  facts  set  against  one  the  other.  The  belief  in  re- 
demption is  entirely  reasonable,  for  the  thing  has  been  done. 
The  new  fact  of  God's  love  has  been  tested,  and  the  hosts 
of  the  redeemed  are  God's  answer  to  man's  greatest  ques- 
tion. Sinful  men,  generation  after  generation,  looked 
in  despair  at  the  scarlet  and  crimson  of  their  sins;  and 
behold  they  stand  in  white — white  as  snow  and  wool — 
before  the  throne.  That  is  what  Love  can  do  and  has 
done.     God  has  proved  His  case. 


THE  DIVINE  LOVE  INCARNATE 

(Third  Sunday  in  Advent) 

"The  love  of  God  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus." — Romans  viii.  39. 

Who  is  Jesus  Christ?  and  what  has  He  done  for  men? 
The  answer  of  Christian  faith  is,  He  is  God  manifest  in 
the  flesh,  who  for  us  men  and  for  our  salvation  lived  on 
earth  and  died  upon  the  cross  and  lives  for  evermore. 
Yet  there  are  many  to  whom  such  formal  definitions  are 
valueless  because  they  have  not  any  sufficiently  definite 
meaning  in  relation  to  our  common  experience  of  human 
life.  Even  those  who  are  prepared  to  accept  the  formula, 
feel  only  too  keenly  how  little  they  really  understand  it. 
"  Christ  Jesus,"  says  a  thoughtful  writer,  "  was  in  out- 
ward seeming  like  other  men;  His  divinity  is  discerned 
only  by  spiritual  grace. "  That  is  true,  and  it  is  worth 
our  while  to  inquire  along  what  lines  human  nature  is 
open  to  this  spiritual  grace,  so  that  seeing  Christ  along 
them  we  may  discern  God  in  Him. 

God,  the  Divine  spirit  at  work  in  the  world,  can  only 
be  discerned  by  man  along  such  channels  as  are  open  to 
man,  and  the  common  description  of  the  three  main  chan- 
nels as  power,  thought,  and  love,  will  be  a  sufficiently  clear 
and  comprehensive  one.  From  the  first,  the  forces  of  na- 
ture were  obvious  and  impressive,  and  man  ex- 
pressed his  sense  cf  these  in  primitive  idol-worship.  Jus 
civilization  advanced,  the  ideas  of  order  and  intelligence 
were  perceived  more  and  more  clearly,  revealing  wisdom 

(255) 


256  THINGS  ETERNAL 

as  well  as  power  in  the  Divine.  Last  and  highest,  as  family 
affections  grew  deeper  and  more  refined,  love  was  recog- 
nized as  an  essential,  and  indeed  paramount,  quality  of 
God. 

He  who  undertakes  to  manifest  God  in  the  flesh,  then, 
must  work  along  these  lines,  combining  and  as  it  were 
epitomizing  in  himself  the  power,  wisdom,  and  love  of  God. 
Apart  from  such  a  manifestation,  God  is  discovered  work- 
ing out  His  ends  slowly  in  the  processes  of  nature  and  of 
human  life.  He  is  to  be  seen  in  the  whole  life  of  field 
and  tree  and  beast  and  bird,  and  in  all  the  lives  of  men, 
being  in  a  sense  incarnate  in  creation.  But — so  complex 
is  creation — such  manifestation  must  always  be  incomplete 
and  inaccurate,  and  the  great  necessity  must  be  for  a 
manifestation  of  the  life  of  God  in  a  series  of  typical 
events  within  the  limits  of  a  single  human  life.  It  is  this 
that  Jesus  claims  to  have  done.  He  was  that  mysterious 
being  who  had  power  thus  to  sum  up  in  Himself  the  entire 
process  of  God's  life  in  man.  He  achieved  in  one  short 
lifetime  the  exhibition  of  the  character  and  action  of  the 
eternal  God. 

As  to  the  power,  there  can  be  no  question  that  in  Him 
history  records  a  quite  unique  display.  Whatever  theory 
may  be  adopted  in  regard  to  the  miracles,  it  is  abundantly 
evident  that  here  was  One  who  laid  mighty  hands  upon 
the  individual  lives  with  which  He  met,  and  that  in  His 
healing  and  helping  energy  men  recognized  the  epitom- 
izing of  forces  which  would  have  otherwise  been  seen  only 
in  lengthy  natural  processes.  Still  more  does  His  power 
reveal  itself  in  that  grasp  of  mental  and  social  phenomena, 
which,  through  the  agency  of  the  early  church,  utterly 
changed  existing  society,  set  for  the  world  new  ideals, 
and  set  free  within  it  new  forces  whose  operation  waited 
its  time,  but  was  irresistible  when  that  time  had  come.  And 
this  is  but  the  chief  example  of  those  immense  supplies 


THE  DIVINE  LOVE  INCARNATE  257 

of  reserve  power  which  we  are  aware  of  in  reading  His 
life  and  words.  One  feels  always  that  there  are  wide 
margins  of  possibility  beyond  the  actual  deeds  recorded, 
and  that  His  forces  of  character  and  influence  are  never 
put  forth  up  to  the  edge  of  their  field  of  exercise.  He  is, 
Himself,  fully  aware  of  this,  and  very  frequently  speaks 
of  powers  which  He  might  have  exercised,  but  restrained. 
Once,  indeed,  He  exclaims,  "  All  power  is  given  unto  me 
in  heaven  and  in  earth.' ' 

Similarly  the  thought  of  God  is  revealed  alike  in  His 
sayings  and  in  His  life.  The  wonder  of  the  speech  of 
Jesus  is  not  its  novelty,  but  rather  a  sense  of  familiarity 
and  recognition  which  it  awakens.  It  is  as  if  we  had 
known  this  before,  though  we  had  never  been  able  to  express 
it.  Fragments  of  conviction,  broken  and  imperfect  intui- 
tions and  impressions  about  moral  and  spiritual  things, 
spring  into  living  knowledge  when  we  have  heard  Him 
speak.  It  is  as  though  the  thought  of  God,  which  had 
been  striving  for  utterance  in  the  process  of  life,  had  ex- 
tricated itself  from  manifold  contradictions,  and  stood  out 
clear  and  convincing,  as  final  truth. 

But  most  especially  does  the  love  of  God  manifest  itself 
in  Christ.  It  had  been  seen  before  Him,  in  all  human  love, 
in  families  and  among  friends.  All  love  is  of  God,  as  we 
are  told  so  emphatically  in  the  first  Epistle  of  John.  But 
at  best  human  love  could  give  but  a  confused  idea  of  divine 
love,  and  in  some  cases  it  must  lead  rather  to  doubt  than 
to  assurance.  For  love  on  earth  is  often  divorced  from 
wisdom  and  from  power,  and  then  its  folly  and  its  ineffec- 
tiveness lead  rather  to  scepticism  than  to  faith.  If  it  is 
to  reveal  the  divine  love  in  any  credible  or  consoling  fash- 
ion, it  must  be  brought  back  into  relation  with  thought 
and  power. 

It  needs  thought  and  wisdom.     It  is  often  blind  and 


258  THINGS  ETERNAL 

uncomprehending,  a  mere  passion  not  far  removed  from 
the  senses,  and  utterly  unfit  for  any  confidence  in  so  com- 
plex an  engagement  as  human  life.  Such  unthinking  and 
unwise  love  is  one  of *the  commonest  of  man 's  curses  on  the 
earth.  In  a  world  like  this  it  is  not  enough  to  love;  we 
must  love  wisely.  And  instead  of  mere  uncomprehending 
emotion,  love  needs  a  deep  insight,  a  vast  stretch  of  imag- 
ination, ingenuity,  and  conscience,  to  make  it  valuable  or 
even  safe. 

Not  less  does  human  love  require  power.  As  Butler 
said  of  conscience,  "  Had  it  strength,  as  it  has  right;  had 
it  power,  as  it  has  manifest  authority,  it  would  absolutely 
govern  the  world."  But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  love  is  con- 
stantly mastered  on  the  earth.  Selfishness,  arbitrary  cir- 
cumstances, poverty,  the  lapse  of  time,  all  are  seen  to 
conquer  it.  Finally  death  comes,  and  love  in  passionate 
rebellion  struggles  in  vain  against  that  enemy.  In  view 
of  these  things  there  is  many  a  life  in  which  love,  con- 
fessedly the  most  precious  of  human  gifts,  is  yet  also  the 
weakest. 

But  the  love  of  Jesus  was  illuminated  by  knowledge  and 
fortified  with  power;  it  was  strong  as  it  was  wise.  He 
saw  and  understood  those  whom  He  loved.  His  insight 
penetrated  to  the  depths  of  man's  folly  and  sin,  recon- 
structed his  scattered  ideals  and  insecure  principles,  in- 
terpreted him  to  himself,  and  so  taught  him  to  love  dis- 
criminately.  Similarly  His  love  was  strong  enough  to 
accomplish  that  which  human  love  can  only  desire  and 
long  to  do.  His  miracles  are  not  recorded  as  mere  dis- 
plays of  power,  but  of  love  that  was  strong  enough  to 
cope  with  human  sorrows.  Faced  by  death  itself,  that 
love  did  not  fail.  It  was  stronger  than  death.  Love  was 
thus  set  free  by  Christ  as  an  actual  and  effective  force 
in  the  midst  of  human  life  with  its  needs  and  its  perplexi- 


THE  DIVINE  LOVE  INCARNATE  259 

ties.  That  wise  and  powerful  love  is  among  us  yet.  And 
in  it  and  in  its  effects  we  see  God,  and  understand  not 
His  love  only,  but  also  His  wisdom  and  His  power.  And 
the  more  carefully  we  observe  its  contact  with  life  at  the 
acutest  points  of  man's  suffering,  temptation,  and  wretch- 
edness, the  more  clearly  we  see  in  Jesus  the  setting  free 
of  the  eternal  wisdom,  power,  and  love  upon  the  earth. 


THE    SECOND    ADVENT 

(Fourth  Sunday  in  Advent.) 

"Like  unto  men  that  wait  for  their  lord." — Luke  xii.  36. 

Few  doctrines  have  suffered  more  at  the  hands  of  their 
friends  than  that  of  the  second  coming  of  Jesus  Christ. 
The  Scriptures  which  relate  to  it  have  in  them  much  of 
the  spectacular,  which  is  obviously  there  for  the  sake  of 
vividness  and  not  of  literal  prophecy.    To  understand  the 
details  a  considerable  knowledge  of  the  history  of  sym- 
bolism would  be  needed,  besides  a  wide  acquaintance  with 
Persian  and  the  later  Greek  literature.    Unfortunately  the 
boldest   dogmatists   in   this   region   are  frequently   those 
most  inadequately  equipped  for  the  task,  and  the  popular 
attempts  at  interpretation  and  forecast  are  to  be  wholly 
distrusted.    Amid  references  to  the  clouds  of  heaven,  the 
sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  so  on,  we  lose  ourselves  at  once. 
Even  the  word  "  descend  "  presupposes  a  system  of  as- 
tronomy now  held  by  no  one,     Equally  impossible  is  it 
to  reach  any  sound  conclusions  as  to  the  time  of  a  second 
advent.    Those  who  are  curious  about  prophetic  signs  and 
portents  may  find  them  in  every  age.     Such  interpreters 
forget  the  largeness  of  history  and  the  smallness  of  our 
knowledge  and  experience.     They  foster  a  morbid  curi- 
osity, whose  effects  upon  the  credulous  are  sometimes  very 
mischievous.     In  the  wise  words  of  Godet,  the   Church 
"  has  nothing  else  to  do,  in  virtue  of  her  ignorance  (from 
which  she  ought  not  to  wish  to  escape)  than  to  remain  in- 
variably on  the  watch." 

(260) 


THE    SECOND    ADVENT  261 

The  great  fact  which  remains,  when  we  have  detached 
ourselves  from  entanglements  of  detail,  is  the  fact  of  Christ 
in  the  future  as  well  as  in  the  past.  Of  that  w«  muat 
assure  ourselves,  for  the  question  rises,  Has  Christianity 
a  future  with  Christ  in  it  ?  All  great  and  fascinating  ideals 
have  a  tendency  to  leave  behind  them  the  conviction  that 
they  will  return.  One  has  only  to  remember  the  legends 
of  Arthur,  Barbarossa,  and  Napoleon,  to  find  examples. 
In  a  sense  the  legend  is  true.  Many  of  man's  designs  are 
greater  than  the  length  of  his  life,  and  the  demand  for  the 
continuance  of  anything  which  has  once  shown  itself  vividly 
effective  and  satisfying  is  part  of  our  instinct  of  immortal- 
ity. All  the  incompleteness,  also,  which  men  lamented  in 
the  work  of  those  other  heroes,  is  here  also.  The  New 
Testament  bears  all  the  marks  of  an  unfinished  story. 

But  in  the  personality  of  Jesus  Christ  we  find  the  ele- 
ment which  distinguishes  this  from  all  other  stories,  and 
Which  guarantees  a  sequel  with  a  literal  certainty  very 
different  from  the  merely  ideal  truth  of  the  other  ex- 
pectations. From  such  passages  as  the  text  —  and 
there  are  many  of  them  —  we  see  the  conviction  of  a  return' 
firmly  seated  in  His  own  consciousness,  His  claim  to  be 
the  Messiah,  and  His  identification  of  Himself  with  the 
kingdom  of  God,  necessarily  include  a  doctrine  of  return. 
He  began  that  kingdom  and  reign,  and  He  obviously  meant 
to  complete  it.  Men  who  saw  and  understood  its  beginnings, 
recognized  in  them  the  very  truth  of  life,  the  real  meaning 
of  history,  towards  which  all  the  past  had  been  feeling  its 
way.  They  felt  that  this  ideal  state  of  things  must  and 
shall  be  completed,  and  they  perceived  that  such  comple- 
tion would  be  impossible  without  Him. 

Then  His  death  became  evident  in  the  immediate  future. 
He  sought  no  escape,  but  deliberately  accepted  it.  Beyond 
His  death  He  perceived  the  unconquered  evil  forces  of  the 
world  working  out  their  dark  miseries  for  mankind.    Yet 


262  THINGS  ETERNAL 

all  this  never  for  a  moment  shook  His  faith  in  the  kingdom 
of  God.  Nay  He  linked  on  the  thought  of  His  death  with 
the  coming  perfection  of  the  kingdom,  and  saw,  in  death, 
not  the  thwarting  of  the  kingdom,  but  a  necessary  incident 
in  its  coming.  He  felt  in  Himself  the  redeeming  and 
renewing  power  that  would  yet  recreate  the  world. 

As  to  the  form  in  which  He  expressed  this,  He  was 
content  to  use  familiar  Old  Testament  figures  and  symbols. 
For  the  detailed  interpretation  of  these  we  have,  as  has 
been  already  said,  no  key.  But  the  central  meaning  is 
perfectly  clear.  The  kingdom  of  God  is  coming.  Essen- 
tially, this  is  the  promise  that  righteousness  shall  triumph 
on  the  earth,  and  become  universal,  full  of  judgment  and 
at  the  same  time  full  of  gladness.  But  all  this  always 
centres  in  Himself,  so  that  He  is  as  essential  to  the  future 
as  to  the  past  of  the  kingdom,  and  both  are  inseparably 
identified  with  His  presence. 

When  our  faith  seeks  to  follow  in  His  footsteps,  and  we 
repeat  for  ourselves  the  process  of  His  thought,  we  find,  to 
begin  with,  the  conviction  of  the  worth  of  righteousness 
supreme  among  our  convictions,  To  see  this  once  is  to  be 
unable  ever  to  see  life  otherwise  again.  This  kingdom  of 
God  is  the  very  truth  and  meaning  of  life;  and  our  con- 
viction of  the  worth  and  reality  of  righteousness  compels 
us  to  believe  in  its  ultimate  victory.  But  then,  for  us, 
righteousness  is  wholly  identified  with  Christ.  Literally, 
"He  is  our  righteousness, ' '  and  when  we  think  of  right- 
eousness we  think  of  Him.  Hence,  when  we  think  of  it  in 
the  future,  we  cannot  omit  Him  from  the  thought.  Christ 
has  made  Himself  absolutely  indispensable  to  us,  and 
absolutely  certain  also.  The  fact  that  meanwhile  He  is 
withdrawn  from  sight  is  a  mere  incident  of  no  essential 
significance.  Looking  back  and  forward,  we  see  right- 
eousness and  we  see  Jesus. 

This  sets  for  us  the  principle  that  in  watching  for  His 


THE   SECOND  ADVENT  263 

coming  we  shall  find  the  real  signs  in  the  region  of  ideas 
and  in  the  progress  of  history.  Even  now  we  see  the 
kingdom  of  God  gradually  taking  over  the  king- 
doms of  the  world.  Christ  has  slowly  mastered  the 
conscience  of  mankind,  and  every  advance  in  public  or 
private  morality  is  a  new  triumph.  Again,  in  individual 
lives,  every  conspicuous  moment  of  experience  is  insepar- 
able from  a  new  revelation  of  Christ  to  the  soul  of  the 
believer.  If  in  any  measure  we  are  conquerers,  it  is 
" through  Him  that  loved  us."  Thus,  as  every  Christian 
heart  knows,  " Christ  has  come  because  He  is  here,"  and 
every  new  year  ' '  rings  in  the  Christ  that  is  to  be. ' '  And, 
as  we  look  forward  to  the  future,  all  these  lines  of  public 
progress  and  of  private  experience  culminate  in  a  point 
of  time  when  Christ  will  be  manifest  again.  In  our  present 
state  we  have  always  the  sense  of  being  "absent  from  the 
Lord,"  but  everything  around  and  within  us  tells  us  that 
the  absence  is  only  for  a  time.  We  are  sure  that  we  shall 
yet  see  Him  face  to  face.  For  us  individually,  indeed,  this 
climax  may  mean  the  vision  that  death  will  bring.  But 
for  the  world  it  means  more  than  that.  Christ  has  ap- 
peared at  the  beginning  of  the  kingdom,  and  Christiandom 
looks  forward  to  a  time  when  the  gradual  victory  will  be 
completed,  and  the  Son  of  Man  will  be  manifest  on  the 
new  earth  He  has  remade. 

Meanwhile  the  practical  results  of  this  great  hope  are 
evident.  It  inspires  those  who  believe  with  an  undying 
faith  in  the  future.  For  them,  Christ  is  in  the  future, 
and  there  is  all  the  difference  in  the  world  between  a 
religion  which  merely  tells  a  story  of  the  past  and  one 
which  makes  for  a  future  da}r.  We  trust  the  future,  and 
wait  for  it  in  faith  and  patience,  because  we  see  Christ 
there  victoriously  doing  His  will,  and  that  vision  wakens 
all  that  is  bravest  in  us  as  we  wait.  Further,  it  puts  a  new 
meaning:  on  the   daily  facts   of   life  when    we  recognize 


264  THINGS  ETERNAL 

Christ's  coming  in  them.  The  climax  is  still  to  be  waited 
for,  but  the  coming  is  here  and  now,  transforming  all  things 
for  those  who  have  eyes  to  see. 

For  the  ultimate  reunion,  and  for  the  daily  coming  of 
Christ  alike,  one  fact  only  is  certain.  His  coming  is  ever 
unexpected.  The  Christ  we  are  waiting  for  is  one  whose 
habit  it  is  to  surprise  the  world.  It  is  this  constantly 
reiterated  warning  which  discourages  our  curiosity  as  to 
details.  By  studying  curious  Scriptures  you  may  think  out 
a  plan  and  fix  a  date,  and  that  will  be  the  hour  when  ye 
think.  But  it  is  in  the  hour  when  ye  think  not  that  Christ 
is  to  come.  And  the  practical  lesson  is  that  we  be  so  alert  as 
to  be  always  ready  to  recognize  Christ  in  unexpected 
ways  and  at  unexpected  times.  We  expect  Him  in  the 
clouds  of  heaven;  he  is  coming  along  the  streets  of  earth. 
We  expect  Him  in  some  great  way;  He  is  coming  in  a 
thousand  little  ways.  Only  by  alertness  shall  we  over- 
reach surprise;  by  standing  with  the  lights  of  faith  and 
love  and  joy  trimmed  and  burning,  and  the  loins  girt  so 
that  we  are  strong  and  unhampered  for  immediate  service. 


THE  GROUPS  AROUND  THE  CRADLE 

(Christmas  Day) 

"The  eyes  of  all  wait  upon  Thee." — Psalm  cxlv.  15. 

The  one  thing  which  is  evident  above  all  others  in  the 
artless  Christmas  stories  of  the  New  Testament,  is  their 
unconscious  grouping  round  the  cradle  of  significant  and 
representatives  figures  which  taken  together,  bring  the 
world  to  gaze  upon  the  wonder  of  Christ's  coming.  Like 
the  symbolic  groups  round  some  statute  they  stand  or 
kneel  before  Him,  forming  one  prophetic  picture  of  His 
manifold  influence  upon  the  world.  In  the  beautiful  words 
rendered  familiar  by  the  music  in  Gounod's  "  Nazareth/' 
we  have  the  local  shepherds,  the  far-travelled  kings,  and 
the  wind  among  the  pine  trees ;  excellently  telling  the  same 
truth,  and  adding  only  that  sense  of  nature  also  finding 
her  interpreter  in  Him,  which  Milton  expressed  so  nobly 
in  his  Hymn  on  the  Nativity. 

First  there  are  the  parents,  linking  Him  in  at  once  with 
Israel's  royalty  and  peasantry.  Joseph  the  carpenter 
brings  Him  among  the  working  men  and  disappears,  hav- 
ing rendered  this  service.  The  working  man  shall  receive 
from  Jesus  abundant  repayment  for  that  carpenter's  care. 
Mary  brings  womanhood  to  the  cradle,  as  Raphael  and 
Eossetti  have  so  exquisitely  understood.  Her  pure  soul 
has  been  astonished  and  grieved  with  centuries  of  worship. 
But  one  of  the  main  reasons  for  her  worship  was  that  as- 
ceticism had  taken  the  love  of  woman  from  the  conscience 

(265) 


266  THINGS  ETERNAL 

of  man,  and  it  was  by  the  compulsion  of  an  eternal  human 
need  that  she  came  back  in  this  strange  fashion.  But,  while 
the  worship  must  pass,  the  gift  she  brought  remains — 
purity  and  love  are  where  Jesus  is  from  the  beginning. 

The  Roman  Emperor  is  there,  for  it  was  the  census  that 
brought  the  babe  to  Bethlehem.  Drawn,  like  so  many  thou- 
sends,  by  that  Emperor's  will  along  the  roads  of  Palestine, 
they  little  thought  how  strong  a  link  it  was  that  then  was 
forged.  Rome  shall  reckon  with  that  babe  yet,  and  the 
greatness  of  her  Empire  shall  pass  over  to  His  Church. 

The  angels  and  the  shepherds  are  intentionally  united 
in  one  group.  Highest  heaven  and  lowliest  earth,  separated 
by  all  the  fears  and  superstitions  of  the  past,  are  one  at 
last  in  this  welcome.  The  shepherd's  pipe  had  sounded 
many  a  day  and  night  among  those  pastures,  and  its  only 
response  had  been  the  bleating  of  the  sheep  and  echoes 
from  the  rocks,  or  the  songs  of  rough  voices.  Yet  it  had 
sought  wistfully — who  can  resist  the  wistfulness  of  it? — 
for  some  other  answer.  Now  the  songs  of  the  heavenly 
choir  respond  to  it,  and  its  wild  music  finds  what  it  sought. 
For  in  Him  the  wistfulness  of  earth  that  yearns  upward  to 
the  mystery  of  the  stars  finds  at  length  an  answer;  and 
humble  men  discover  unknown  friends  in  heaven. 

Anna  and  Simeon  bring  their  hymns  of  welcome,  and 
aged  arms  enfold  Him  in  the  temple.  No  Pharisees  are 
there,  .nor  Sadducees — none  of  the  sophisticated  lords  of 
religion.  But  the  worship  of  the  world  is  there.  In  that 
temple,  and  in  many  another,  where  the  piety  of  the  world 
came  to  pray,  empty  arms  had  been  stretched  out  towards 
the  unseen  *God.  But  in  Him  worship  was  to  find  what  it 
had  sought,  and  to  understand  its  own  mysteries  at  last. 
Its  God  had  hidden  Himself,  and  the  world  of  worshippers 
had  been  seeking  for  Him.  Now  that  they  found  Him  it 
was  in  the  flesh  of  a  little  babe.  And  they  understood  that 
God  is  nearer  than  they  had  dared  to  hope.    Men  would 


THE  GROUPS  AROUND  THE  CRADLE    267 

look  upon  their  children's  faces,  and  touch  them  rever- 
ently, and  God  would  be  sought  and  found,  not  in  the 
distant  heaven,  but  here  in  the  lives  of  men  upon  the  earth. 

The  Magi  come  from  far  lands,  guided  by  a  star,  with 
precious  gifts  in  their  hands.  For  this  is  to  be  no  national 
hero  merely,  nor  local  revelation.  He  is  for  the  world,  and 
the  Gentiles  shall  come  to  His  light,  And  the  wisdom  of 
the  world  shall  come  to  Him  also,  and  find  the  sciences  open 
for  their  exploration.  Guided  by  a  star,  they  will  travel 
through  astrology  to  astronomy ;  through  fantasy  to  knowl- 
edge. And  while  science  flourishes  in  His  days,  more  and 
more  will  it  return  to  the  cradle  again,  confessing  that  the 
highest  knowledge  is  beyond  its  ken,  and  seeking  that  from 
Him. 

Lastly,  what  is  this  evil  face  looking  over  the  shoulders 
of  the  Magi?  Herod,  with  his  cunning  eye,  and  his  mur- 
derous heart,  is  there.  Without  that  last  figure  the  group 
were  incomplete.  It  would  tell  of  a  world  too  fair  and  too 
harmonious.  But  the  world  we  know  has  sin  in  it,  and 
the  undertone  of  the  shepherd's  pipe  and  the  angels'  song 
is  a  bitter  cry  that  will  not  be  comforted.  The  babe  has 
drawn  to  His  cradle  not  only  the  worship  and  the  wisdom 
of  the  world,  but  its  tragedies  of  sorrow  and  of  sin.  That 
touch  completes  the  picture,  casting  among  the  shadows 
of  the  stable  the  deeper  shadow  of  the  cross. 

Thus,  around  the  manger  of  Bethlehem,  all  the  world 
meets,  bringing  the  manifold  interests  of  humanity  to 
Jesus  Christ,  that  He  may  interpret  and  command  them. 
The  unseen  world  presses  in  also,  for  here  heaven  finds  its 
Revealer  Who  shall  indeed  make  it  visible  to  the  earth ;  and 
hell,  astonished,  drags  its  loathsomeness  into  the  light  in 
a  vain  attempt  to  match  itself  against  its  destroyer.  Surely 
this  is  the  night  of  all  the  days  and  nights,  the  birth  in 
which  all  creation  is  new  born. 


THE   END   OF  THE  YEAR 

"It  is  finished."— St.  John  xix.  30. 

The  closing  year  draws  us  to  this  text.  There  are  two 
senses  in  which  we  use  the  word  "  finished*' '  and  the  death 
of  Jesus  illustrates  them  both. 

1.  Finished,  meaning  come  to  an  end. — There  was  indeed 
much  that  came  to  an  end  when  Jesus  died,  and  there  was 
much  that  had  sore  need  to  find  its  ending.  In  the  words 
there  is  a  sigh  of  infinite  relief.  His  sufferings  were  over. 
In  the  deepening  swoon  of  death,  the  pain  of  His  wounds, 
and  the  excruciating  weight  and  drag  of  the  body  on  the 
hands,  were  already  fading  away.  Behind  these,  the  malice 
and  enmity,  the  heart  sore  and  broken  with  reproach,  were 
behind  him;  soon,  on  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  all  these 
would  be  but  a  dream  of  the  past.  Behind  that  again,  the 
growing  sense  of  failure  and  disappointment  as  men  re- 
jected Him  and  all  He  had  to  offer  them — that  too  was 
gone  for  ever.  But  behind  all  else,  there  were  great 
shadows  fleeing  from  the  thrones  from  which  they  had 
oppressed  mankind — sin  and  sorrow  and  death  were  fin- 
ished too. 

For  us  also  the  close  of  every  year  brings  much  to  mind 
that  we  would  gladly  be  done  with.  Every  year  nails 
some  part  of  humanity  on  its  cross,  but  now  the  crucifixion 
of  this  year  is  finished.  Each  of  us  has  his  own  share  of 
things  that  never  seem  to  come  to  an  end.    The  long  vexa- 

(268) 


THE  END  OF  THE  YEAR  269 

tions  and  the  unhealed  wounds,  the  struggle  and  the  sin- 
ning— how  eternal  they  seem  to  be  at  times.  So  that  at 
this  season  there  are  many  hearts  who  feel  like  Childe 
Roland, 

Yet  acquiescingly 
I  did  turn  as  he  pointed;  neither  pride 
Nor  hope  rekindling  at  the  end  descried, 

So  much  as  gladness  that  some  end  might  be. 

Well,  at  the  poorest,  there  is  at  least  always  this  to  say, 
"It  is  finished" — you  have  gone  through  it  and  are  done 
with  it. 

The  year  is  dying  in  the  night; 
Ring  out,  wild  bells,  and  let  him  die. 

There  is  a  great  art  in  letting  the  past  be  past.  Leave 
the  cross  of  last  year  in  that  year,  and  do  not  take  it  over 
into  next  year.  Perhaps  a  release  awaits  you,  and  happier 
days.  Perhaps  you  shall  have  to  go  on  with  the  same 
pain  and  battle.  But  do  not  take  over  the  accumulated 
bitterness  of  the  past;  face  only  the  burden  of  the  day. 
And  if  anyone  has  taken  his  suffering  selfishly,  and  himself 
become  a  cross  to  others,  let  that  at  least  be  finished  and 
not  again  begun.  One  of  the  greatest  things  that  Jesus 
Christ  did  for  men  was  to  finish  things,  and  let  the  past  be 
past.  He  permits  us  to  be  done  with  certain  things  for 
ever,  and  He  shows  us  how  to  do  it.  His  cross  has  "fin- 
ished transgression  and  made  an  end  of  sin,"  and  what 
He  has  finished  we  may  leave  behind  us. 

And  yet,  though  we  may  find  some  consolation  thus  in 
the  very  fact  of  ending,  the  feelings  with  which  we  greet 
the  end  are  never  wholly  feelings  of  relief.  There  is  a 
certain  regret  in  our  hearts  as  we  part  from  even  the 
saddest  days,  Part  at  least  of  the  reason  must  be  that 
with  these  days  there  must  end  so  much  priceless  and 
irrevocable  opportunity,  so  many  chances  of  courage,  pa- 


270  THINGS  ETERNAL 

tience,  and  heroism.  The  end  of  all  such  earthly  chances  is 
coming  soon,  we  know,  to  us  all ;  and  not  a  whole  eternity 
of  blessedness  can  give  us  back  the  lost  opportunity  of 
this  difficult  human  life.  On  the  boundless  fields  of  God 
the  soul  will  wonder  at  its  want  of  patience.  The  longest, 
hardest  life  will  seem  so  short  a  span,  so  possible  a 
situation  to  have  faced  well.  If  the  man  most  afflicted  in 
the  world  knew  that  he  had  only  one  day  more  of  it,  how 
quickly  that  day  would  pass.  Oh  that  we  might  catch  the 
sense  of  haste  before  the  rushing  swiftness  of  the  sunset 
hour  reveals  it. 

2.  Finished,  in  the  sense  of  completed. — For  we  use 
the  word  in  this  sense  also,  indicating  the  accomplish- 
ment or  perfecting  of  work.  There  is  a  difference  between 
finishing  a  thing  and  merely  getting  through  with  it ;  and, 
as  has  been  finely  said,  this  is  the  difference  between  the 
artist  and  the  artizan. 

The  life  of  Jesus  seems  like  an  incomplete  life.  We 
would  fain  have  had  that  short  space  of  three  years  ex- 
tended. It  seems  in  every  sense  fragmentary  and  broken 
off.  Yet  in  this,  as  in  so  much  else,  further  thought  re- 
verses the  first  impression.  The  last  word  of  Jesus  is, 
as  Matthew  Henry  says,  "  A  comprehensive  word  and  a 
comfortable  one." 

The  work  of  nature  never  seems  finished :  it  is  an  untidy 
world.  The  rocks,  the  sea,  the  seasons  of  the  year — how 
rough-edged  they  all  are!  how  lacking  in  what  man  calls 
finish!  In  the  tumble  of  nature  all  things  are  groaning 
and  travailing  in  pain  together,  and  nothing  is  ever  ex- 
actly perfected.  Yet  through  all  this  rough  story  of  evo- 
lution, nature  is  making  for  some  goal.  Through  lesser 
forms  she  reached  forward  till  at  last  she  found  herself 
in  man.  Man  in  his  turn  is  perfected  in  Jesus  Christ, 
who  Himself  was  made  perfect  through  suffering,  and 
found  completion  on  the  cross. 


THE  END  OF  THE  YEAR  271 

History  tells  the  same  story.  The  divine  order  in  his- 
tory is  by  no  means  so  apparent  as  some  light-hearted 
people  think.  This  is  the  problem  of  all  great  historians ; 
and  some  of  them,  baffled  by  the  confusing  play  of  innu- 
merable details,  have  denied  that  progress  is  to  be  seen 
in  history.  Yet  the  deepest  meaning  of  history  is  man's 
attempt  to  find  himself  and  to  find  his  God;  and  these, 
sought  in  vain  through  unnumbered  generations,  were 
found  at  last  in  the  Cross.  All  that  the  world  had  strug- 
gled and  waited  for  was  reached  in  that  climax,  in  which 
love  solved  the  problem  of  human  life. 

Thus  on  Calvary,  not  only  was  the  life  of  Jesus  per- 
fected, but  the  whole  struggle  of  nature  and  of  history 
found  that  towards  which  it  had  reached  forward.  It 
was  the  triumph  of  weakness  over  brute  force,  of  truth 
over  error,  of  righteousness  over  sin,  of  love  over  hatred, 
of  hope  over  fear,  of  gladness  over  gloom.  This  was  the 
great  redemption,  of  which  Christ  had  said  to  his  Father, 
"  I  have  finished  the  work  which  Thou  gavest  Me  to  do," 
and  the  last  words  from  the  cross  are  a  shout  of  victory 
as  well  as  a  sigh  of  relief. 

For  us,  the  hope  of  completing  our  human  task  is  vain. 
And  yet  there  may  be  more  completeness  in  it  than  at  this 
season  we  dare  to  hope.  If  we  have  been  honest  and  faith- 
ful, we  have  certainly  been  building  better  than  we  knew. 
God  is  building  His  house  not  made  with  hands  out  of  what 
seem  to  the  human  builders  broken  fragments,  hopelessly 
incomplete,  but  these  find  completeness  as  parts  of  His 
large  design.  So  let  us  close  our  year  in  hope.  The  whole 
enterprise  of  living  is  a  mystery.  It  is  our  part  not  to  be 
its  architects  but  its  masons  and  labourers,  whose  eyes  are 
upon  the  Master-builder  in  faith  and  loyalty,  and  whose 
hands  are  doing  with  their  might  the  work  that  is  given 
them  to  do. 


Date  Due 


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